^^^  DIEGO 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S 
VENGEANCE 


SHE    EAGERLY    SNATCHED   IT    Ul>,    LM  uLDED    IT,  AND    READ 


BARON 

TRIGAULT'S 

VENGEANCE 

A  Sequel  to  "  The  Count's  Millions  " 

Translated  from  the   French   of 

EMILE   GABORIAU 


Illustrated  by 

JOHN    SLOAN 


Charles  Scribner's  Sons 
New  York     ....     1913 


Copyright,  1913,  by 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


She  eagerly  snatched  it  up,  unfolded  it,  and  read 

Frontispiece 


She  dragged  herself  toward  him  with  her  hands 
clasped  in  an  agony  of  supplication,  while  he 
recoiled,  frightened  by  this  outburst  of  passion  110 

He  sprang  nervously  on  to  his  short,  fat  legs,  his 
eyes  wildly  dilating.  .  .  .  "Don't  speak  so 
loud  !"  he  exclaimed,  imploringly 272 

He  had  placed  her  in  an  arm-chair,  and  fallen  on 
his  knees  before  her.  "  At  last  I  see  you  again, 
my  beloved  Marguerite  " 382 


Baron    Trigault's   Vengeance 


I. 

Vengeance  !  that  is  the  first,  the  only  thought,  when  a 
man  finds  himself  victimized,  when  his  honor  and  for- 
tune, his  present  and  future,  are  wrecked  by  a  vile 
conspiracy  !  The  torment  he  endures  under  such  cir- 
cumstances can  only  be  alleviated  by  the  prospect  of 
inflicting  them  a  hundredfold  upon  his  persecutors. 
And  nothing  seems  impossible  at  the  first  moment,  when 
hatred  surges  in  the  brain,  and  the  foam  of  anger  rises 
to  the  lips;  no  obstacle  seems  insurmountable,  or, 
rather,  none  are  perceived.  But  later,  when  the  facul- 
ties have  regained  their  equilibrium,  one  can  measure 
the  distance  which  separates  the  dream  from  reality,  the 
project  from  execution.  And  on  setting  to  work,  how 
many  discouragements  arise  !  The  fever  of  revolt 
passes  by,  and  the  victim  wavers.  He  still  breathes 
bitter  vengeance,  but  he  does  not  act.  He  despairs,  and 
asks  himself  what  would  be  the  good  of  it?  And  in 
this  way  the  success  of  villainy  is  once  more  assured. 

Similar  despondency  attacked  Pascal  Ferailleur  when 
he  awoke  for  the  first  time  in  the  abode  where  he  had 
hidden  himself  under  the  name  of  Mauméjan.  A 
frightful  slander  had  crushed  him  to  the  earth — he 
could  kill  his  slanderer,  but  afterward — ?  How  was  he 
to  reach  and  stifle  the  slander  itself?  As  well  try  to 
hold  a  handful  of  water;  as  well  try  to  stay  with  ex- 
tended arms  the  progress  of  the  poisonous  breeze  which 


2        BARON   TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

wafts  an  epidemic  on  its  wings.  So  the  hope  that  had 
momentarily  lightened  his  heart  faded  away  again. 
Since  he  had  received  that  fatal  letter  from  Madame 
Léon  the  evening  before,  he  believed  that  Marguerite 
was  lost  to  him  forever,  and  in  this  case,  it  was  useless 
to  struggle  against  fate.  What  would  be  the  use  of 
victory  even  if  he  conquered?  Marguerite  lost  to  him 
— what  did  the  rest  matter?  Ah!  if  he  had  been  alone 
in  the  world.  But  he  had  his  mother  to  think  of; — he 
belonged  to  this  brave-hearted  woman,  who  had  saved 
him  from  suicide  already.  "  I  will  not  yield,  then  ;  I 
will  struggle  on  for  her  sake,"  he  muttered,  like  a  man 
who  foresees  the  futility  of  his  efiforts. 

He  rose,  and  had  nearly  finished  dressing,  when  he 
heard  a  rap  at  his  chamber  door.  "  It  is  I,  my  son," 
said  Madame  Ferailleur  outside. 

Pascal  hastened  to  admit  her.  "  I  have  come  for 
you  because  the  woman  you  spoke  about  last  evening 
is  already  here,  and  before  employing  her,  I  want  your 
advice." 

"  Then  the  woman  doesn't  please  you,  mother  ?  " 

"  I  want  you  to  see  her." 

On  entering  the  little  parlor  with  his  mother,  Pascal 
found  himself  in  the  presence  of  a  portly,  pale-faced 
woman,  with  thin  lips  and  restless  eyes,  who  bowed 
obsequiously.  It  was  indeed  Madame  Vantrasson,  the 
landlady  of  the  model  lodging-house,  who  was  seeking 
employment  for  the  three  or  four  hours  which  were  at 
her  disposal  in  the  morning,  she  said.  It  certainly  was 
not  for  pleasure  that  she  had  decided  to  go  out  to  ser- 
vice again;  her  dignity  sufifered  terribly  by  this  fall — 
but  then  the  stomach  has  to  be  cared  for.  Tenants 
were  not  numerous  at  the  model  lodging-house,  in  .j^pite 
of  its  seductive  title;  and  those  who  slept  there  -^cca- 


BARON   TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE        3 

sionally,  almost  invariably  succeeded  in  stealing  some- 
thing. Nor  did  the  grocery  store  pay;  the  few  half- 
pence which  were  left  there  occasionally  in  exchange 
for  a  glass  of  liquor  were  pocketed  by  Vantrasson,  who 
spent  them  at  some  neighboring  establisliment  ;  for  it  is 
a  well-known  fact  that  the  wine  a  man  drinks  in  his 
own  shop  is  always  bitter  in  flavor.  So,  having  no 
credit  at  the  butcher's  or  the  baker's,  Madame  Vantras- 
son was  sometimes  reduced  to  living  for  days  together 
upon  the  contents  of  the  shop — mouldy  figs  or  dry 
raisins — which  she  washed  down  with  torrents  of 
rataûa,  her  only  consolation  here  below. 

But  this  was  not  a  satisfying  diet,  as  she  was  forced 
to  confess  ;  so  she  decided  to  find  some  work,  that  would 
furnish  her  with  food  and  a  little  money,  which  she 
vowed  she  would  never  allow  her  worthy  husband  to  see. 

"  What  would  vou  charge  per  month  ?  "  inquired 
Pascal. 

She  seemed  to  reflect,  and  after  a  great  deal  of  count- 
ing on  her  fingers,  she  finally  declared  that  she  would 
be  content  with  breakfast  and  fifteen  francs  a  month, 
on  condition  she  was  allowed  to  do  the  marketing.  The 
first  question  of  French  cooks,  on  presenting  themselves 
for  a  situation,  is  almost  invariably,  "  Shall  I  do  the 
marketing?"  which  of  course  means,  "Shall  I  have 
any  opportunities  for  stealing?"  Everybody  knows 
this,  and  nobody  is  astonished  at  it. 

"  I  shall  do  the  marketing  myself,"  declared  Madame 
Ferailleur,  boldly. 

"  Then  I  shall  want  thirty  francs  a  month,"  replied 
Madame  Vantrasson,  promptly. 

Pascal  and  his  mother  exchanged  glances.  They 
were  both  unfavorably  impressed  by  this  woman,  and 
were  equally  determined  to  rid  themselves  of  her,  which 


4        BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

it  was  easy  enough  to  do.    "  Too  dear  !  "  said  Madame 
Ferailleur;  "  I  have  never  given  over  fifteen  francs." 

But  Madame  Vantrasson  was  not  the  woman  to  be 
easily  discouraged,  especially  as  she  knew  that  if  she 
failed  to  obtain  this  situation,  she  might  have  consider- 
able difficulty  in  finding  another  one.  She  could  only 
hope  to  obtain  employment  from  strangers  and  new- 
comers, who  were  ignorant  of  the  reputation  of  the 
model  lodging-house.  So  in  view  of  softening  the 
hearts  of  Pascal  and  his  mother,  she  began  to  relate  the 
history  of  her  life,  skilfully  mingling  the  false  with  the 
true,  and  representing  herself  as  an  unfortunate  victim 
of  circumstances,  and  the  inhuman  cruelty  of  relatives. 
For  she  belonged,  like  her  husband,  to  a  very  respect- 
able family,  as  the  Mauméjans  might  easily  ascertain 
by  inquiry.  Vantrasson's  sister  was  the  wife  of  a  man 
named  Greloux,  who  had  once  been  a  bookbinder  in 
the  Rue  Saint-Denis,  but  who  had  now  retired  from 
business  with  a  competency.  "  Why  had  this  Greloux 
refused  to  save  them  from  bankruptcy?  Because  one 
could  never  hope  for  a  favor  from  relatives,"  she 
groaned  ;  "  they  are  jealous  if  you  succeed  ;  and  if  you 
are  unfortunate,  they  cast  you  ofï." 

However,  these  doleful  complaints,  far  from  render- 
ing Madame  Vantrasson  interesting,  imparted  a  deceit- 
ful and  most  disagreeable  expression  to  her  counte- 
nance. "  I  told  you  that  I  could  only  give  fifteen 
francs,"  interrupted  Madame  Ferailleur — "  take  it  or 
leave  it." 

Madame  Vantrasson  protested.  She  expressed  her 
willingness  to  deduct  five  francs  from  the  sum  she  had 
named,  but  more — it  was  impossible  !  Would  they 
haggle  over  ten  francs  to  secure  such  a  treasure  as 
herself,  an  honest,  settled  woman,  who  was  entirely 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANTE        5 

devoted  to  her  employers  ?  "  Besides,  I  have  been  a 
grand  cook  in  my  time,"  she  added,  **  and  I  have  not 
lost  all  my  skill.  Monsieur  and  madame  would  be  de- 
lighted with  my  cooking,  for  I  have  seen  more  than  one 
fine  gentleman  smack  his  lips  over  my  sauces  when  I 
was  in  the  employment  of  the  Count  de  Chalusse." 

Pascal  and  his  mother  could  not  repress  a  start  on 
hearing  this  name  ;  but  it  was  in  a  tone  of  well-assumed 
indifference  that  Madame  Ferailleur  repeated,  "  AI.  de 
Chalusse?  " 

*'  Yes,  madame — a  count — and  so  rich  that  he  didn't 
know  how  much  he  was  worth.  If  he  were  still  alive 
I  shouldn't  be  compelled  to  go  out  to  service  again. 
But  he's  dead  and  he's  to  be  buried  this  very  day." 
And  with  an  air  of  profound  secrecy,  she  added  :  "  On 
going  yesterday  to  the  Hôtel  de  Chalusse  to  ask  for  a 
little  help,  I  heard  of  the  great  misfortune.  Vantras- 
son,  my  husband,  accompanied  me,  and  while  we  were 
talking  with  the  concierge,  a  young  woman  passed 
through  the  hall,  and  he  recognized  her  as  a  person 
who  some  time  ago  was — well — no  better  than  she 
should  be.  Now,  however,  she's  a  young  lady  as  lofty 
as  the  clouds,  and  the  deceased  count  has  been  passing 
her  oflf  as  his  daughter.    Ah  !  this  is  a  strange  world." 

Pascal  had  become  whiter  than  the  ceiling.  His  eyes 
blazed  ;  and  Madame  Ferailleur  trembled.  "  Very  well," 
she  said,  "  I  will  give  you  twenty-five  francs — ^but  on 
condition  you  come  without  complaining  if  I  some- 
times require  your  services  of  an  evening.  On  these 
occasions  I  will  give  you  your  dinner."  And  taking 
five  francs  from  her  pocket  she  placed  them  in  Madame 
Vantrasson's  hand,  adding  :  "  Here  is  your  earnest 
money." 

The  other  quickly  pocketed  the  coin,  not  a  little  sur- 


6        BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

prised  by  this  sudden  decision  which  she  had  scarcely 
hoped  for,  and  which  she  by  no  means  understood. 
Still  she  was  so  delighted  with  this  dénouement  that 
she  expressed  her  willingness  to  enter  upon  her  duties 
at  once;  and  to  get  rid  of  her  Madame  Ferailleur  was 
obliged  to  send  her  out  to  purchase  the  necessary  sup- 
plies for  breakfast.  Then,  as  soon  as  she  was  alone 
with  her  son,  she  turned  to  him  and  asked  :  "  Well, 
Pascal?" 

But  the  wretched  man  seemed  turned  to  stone,  and 
seeing  that  he  neither  spoke  nor  moved,  she  continued 
in  a  severe  tone  :  "  Is  this  the  way  you  keep  your  reso- 
lutions and  your  oaths  !  You  express  your  intention 
of  accomplishing  a  task  which  requires  inexhaustible 
patience  and  dissimulation,  and  at  the  very  first  unfore- 
seen circumstance  your  coolness  deserts  you,  and  you 
lose  your  head  completely.  If  it  had  not  been  for  me 
you  would  have  betrayed  yourself  in  that  woman's 
presence.  You  must  renounce  your  revenge,  and  tamely 
submit  to  be  conquered  by  the  Marquis  de  Valorsay  if 
your  face  is  to  be  an  open  book  in  which  any  one  may 
read  your  secret  plans  and  thoughts." 

Pascal  shook  his  head  dejectedly.  "  Didn't  you  hear, 
mother  ?  "  he  faltered. 

"Hear  what?" 

"What  that  vile  woman  said?  This  young  lady 
whom  she  spoke  of,  whom  her  husband  recognized,  can 
be  none  other  than  Marguerite." 

"  I  am  sure  of  it." 

He  recoiled  in  horror.  "  You  are  sure  of  it  !  "  he 
repeated  ;  "  and  you  can  tell  me  this  unmoved — coldly, 
as  if  it  were  a  natural,  a  possible  thing.  Didn't  you 
understand  the  shameful  meaning  of  her  insinuations? 
Didn't  you  see  her  hypocritical  smile  and  the  malice 


BARON   TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE        7 

gleaming  in  her  eyes  ?  "  He  pressed  his  hands  to  his 
burning  brow,  and  groaned  :  "  And  I  did  not  crush  the 
infamous  wretch  !    I  did  not  fell  her  to  the  ground  !  " 

Ah  !  if  she  had  obeyed  the  impulse  of  her  heart, 
Madame  Ferailleur  would  have  thrown  her  arms  round 
her  son's  neck,  and  have  mingled  her  tears  with  his, 
but  reason  prevailed.  The  worthy  woman's  heart  was 
pervaded  with  that  lofty  sentiment  of  duty  which  sus- 
tains the  humble  heroines  of  the  fireside,  and  lends 
them  even  more  courage  than  the  reckless  adventurers 
whose  names  are  recorded  by  history  could  boast  of. 
She  felt  that  Pascal  must  not  be  consoled,  but  spurred 
on  to  fresh  efforts;  and  so  mustering  all  her  courage, 
she  said  :  "  Are  you  acquainted  with  Mademoiselle 
Marguerite's  past  life?  No.  You  only  know  that  hers 
has  been  a  life  of  great  vicissitudes — and  so  it  is  not 
strange  that  she  should  be  slandered." 

"  In  that  case,  mother,"  said  Pascal,  "  you  were 
wrong  to  interrupt  Madame  Vantrasson.  She  would 
probably  have  told  us  many  things." 

"  I  interrupted  her,  it  is  true,  and  sent  her  away — 
and  you  know  why.  But  she  is  in  our  service  now; 
and  when  you  are  calm,  when  you  have  regained  your 
senses,  nothing  will  prevent  you  from  questioning  her. 
It  may  be  useful  for  you  to  know  who  this  man  Van- 
trasson is,  and  how  and  where  he  met  Mademoiselle 
Marguerite." 

Shame,  sorrow,  and  rage,  brought  tears  to  Pascal's 
eyes.  "  My  God  !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  to  be  reduced  to 
the  unspeakable  misery  of  hearing  my  mother  doubt 
Marguerite  !  "  He  did  not  doubt  her.  He  could  have 
listened  to  the  most  infamous  accusations  against  her 
without  feeling  a  single  doubt.  However,  Madame 
Ferailleur  had  sufficient  self-control  to  shrug  her  shoul- 


8        BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

ders.  "  Ah,  well  !  silence  this  slander,"  she  exclaimed. 
"  I  wish  for  nothing  better  ;  but  don't  forget  that  we 
have  ourselves  to  rehabilitate.  To  crush  your  enemies 
will  be  far  more  profitable  to  Mademoiselle  Marguerite 
than  vain  threats  and  weak  lamentations.  It  seemed  to 
me  that  you  had  sworn  to  act,  not  to  complain." 

This  ironical  thrust  touched  Pascal's  sensitive  mind 
to  the  quick;  he  rose  at  once  to  his  feet,  and  coldly 
said,  "  That's  true.  I  thank  you  for  having  recalled 
me  to  myself." 

She  made  no  rejoinder,  but  mentally  thanked  God. 
She  had  read  her  son's  heart,  and  perceiving  his  hesita- 
tion and  weakness  she  had  supplied  the  stimulus  he 
needed.  Now  she  saw  him  as  she  wished  to  see  him. 
Now  he  was  ready  to  reproach  himself  for  his  lack  of 
courage  and  his  weakness  in  displaying  his  feelings. 
And  as  a  test  of  his  powers  of  endurance,  he  decided 
not  to  question  Madame  Vantrasson  till  four  or  five 
days  had  elapsed.  If  her  suspicions  had  been  aroused, 
this  delay  would  suffice  to  dispel  them.       ^ 

He  said  but  little  during  breakfast  ;  for  he  was  now 
eager  to  commence  the  struggle.  He  longed  to  act. 
and  yet  he  scarcely  knew  how  to  begin  the  campaign. 
First  of  all,  he  must  study  the  enemy's  position — gain 
some  knowledge  of  the  men  he  had  to  deal  with,  find 
out  exactly  who  the  Marquis  de  Valorsay  and  the 
Viscount  de  Coralth  were.  Where  could  he  obtain  in- 
formation respecting  these  two  men?  Should  he  be 
compelled  to  follow  them  and  to  gather  up  here  and 
there  such  scraps  of  intelligence  as  came  in  his  way? 
This  method  of  proceeding  would  be  slow  and  incon- 
venient in  the  extreme.  He  was  revolving  the  subject 
in  his  mind  when  he  suddenly  remembered  the  man 
who,  on  the  morning  that  followed  the  scene  at  Madame 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE        9 

d'Argelès's  house,  had  come  to  him  in  the  Rue  d'UIm 
to  give  him  a  proof  of  his  confidence.  He  remembered 
that  this  strange  man  had  said:  "If  you  ever  need  a 
helping  hand,  come  to  me."  And  at  the  recollection  he 
made  up  his  mind.  "  I  am  going  to  Baron  Trigault's," 
he  remarked  to  his  mother  ;  "  if  my  presentiments  don't 
deceive  me,  he  will  be  of  service  to  us." 

In  less  than  half  an  hour  he  was  on  his  way.  He  had 
dressed  himself  in  the  oldest  clothes  he  possessed  ;  and 
this,  with  the  change  he  had  made  by  cutting  oflf  his 
hair  and  beard,  had  so  altered  his  appearance  that  it 
was  necessary  to  look  at  him  several  times,  and  most 
attentively,  to  recognize  him.  The  visiting  cards  which 
he  carried  in  his  pocket  bore  the  inscription  :  "  P. 
Mauméjan,  Business  Agent,  Route  de  la  Révolte."  His 
knowledge  of  Parisian  life  had  induced  him  to  choose 
the  same  profession  as  M.  Fortunat  followed — a  pro- 
fession which  opens  almost  every  door.  "  I  will  enter 
the  nearest  cafe  and  ask  for  a  directory,"  he  said  to 
himself.  "  I  shall  certainly  find  Baron  Trigault's  ad- 
dress in  it." 

The  baron  lived  in  the  Rue  de  la  Ville-l'Evêque.  His 
mansion  was  one  of  the  largest  and  most  magnificent  in 
the  opulent  district  of  the  Madeleine,  and  its  aspect 
was  perfectly  in  keeping  with  its  owner's  character  as 
an  expert  financier,  and  a  shrewd  manufacturer,  the 
possessor  of  valuable  mines.  The  marvellous  luxury 
so  surprised  Pascal,  that  he  asked  himself  how  the 
owner  of  this  princely  abode  could  find  any  pleasure  at 
the  gaming  table  of  the  Hôtel  d'Argelès.  Five  or  six 
footmen  were  lounging  about  the  courtyard  when  he 
entered  it.  He  walked  straight  up  to  one  of  them,  and 
with  his  hat  in  his  hand,  asked  :  "  Baron  Trigault,  if 
you  please  ?  " 


10      BARON   TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

If  he  had  asked  for  the  Grand  Turk  the  valet  would 
not  have  looked  at  him  with  greater  astonishment.  His 
surprise,  indeed,  seemed  so  profound  that  Pascal  feared 
he  had  made  some  mistake  and  added  :  "  Doesn't  he  live 
here?" 

The  servant  laughed  heartily.  "  This  is  certainly  his 
house,"  he  replied,  "  and  strange  to  say,  by  some  for- 
tunate chance,  he's  here." 

"  I  wish  to  speak  with  him  on  business." 

The  servant  called  one  of  his  colleagues.  "  Eh  ! 
Florestan — is  the  baron  receiving?" 

"  The  baroness  hasn't  forbidden  it." 

This  seemed  to  satisfy  the  footman;  for,  turning  to 
Pascal  he  said  :  "  In  that  case,  you  can  follow  me." 

II. 

The  sumptuous  interior  of  the  Trigault  mansion  was 
on  a  par  with  its  external  magnificence.  Even  the 
entrance  bespoke  the  lavish  millionaire,  eager  to  con- 
quer difficulties,  jealous  of  achieving  the  impossible,  and 
never  haggling  when  his  fancies  were  concerned.  The 
spacious  hall,  paved  with  costly  mosaics,  had  been 
transformed  into  a  conservatory  full  of  flowers,  which 
were  renewed  every  morning.  Rare  plants  climbed  the 
walls  up  gilded  trellis  work,  or  hung  from  the  ceiling 
in  vases  of  rare  old  china,  while  from  among  the  depths 
of  verdure  peered  forth  exquisite  statues,  the  work  of 
sculptors  of  renown.  On  a  rustic  bench  sat  a  couple 
of  tall  footmen,  as  bright  in  their  gorgeous  liveries  as 
gold  coins  fresh  from  the  mint  ;  still,  despite  their  splen- 
dor, they  were  stretching  and  yawning  to  such  a  de- 
gree, that  it  seemed  as  if  they  would  ultimately  dislo- 
cate their  jaws  and  arms. 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE       11 

"  Tell  me,"  inquired  the  servant  who  was  escorting- 
Pascal,  "  can  any  one  speak  to  the  baron  ?  " 

"Why?" 

"  This  gentleman  has  something  to  say  to  him." 

The  two  valets  eyed  the  unknown  visitor,  plainly 
considering  him  to  be  one  of  those  persons  who  have 
no  existence  for  the  menials  of  fashionable  establish- 
ments, and  finally  burst  into  a  hearty  laugh.  "  Upon 
my  word  !  "  exclaimed  the  eldest,  "  he's  just  in  time. 
Announce  him,  and  madame  will  be  greatly  obliged  to 
you.  She  and  monsieur  have  been  quarrelling  for  a 
good  half-hour.  And,  heavenly  powers,  isn't  he  tan- 
talizing !  " 

The  most  intense  curiosity  gleamed  in  the  eyes  of 
Pascal's  conductor,  and  with  an  airy  of  secrecy,  he 
asked:  "What  is  the  cause  of  the  rumpus?  That 
Fernand,  no  doubt — or  some  one  else  ?  " 

"  No  ;  this  morning  it's  about  AI.  Van  Klopen." 

"  Madame's  dressmaker?  " 

"  The  same.  Monsieur  and  madame  were  breakfast- 
ing together — a  most  unusual  thing — when  M.  Van 
Klopen  made  his  appearance.  I  thought  to  myself, 
when  I  admitted  him  :  '  Look  out  for  storms  !  '  I  scented 
one  in  the  air,  and  in  fact  the  dressmaker  hadn't  been 
in  the  room  five  minutes  before  we  heard  the  baron's 
voice  rising  higher  and  higher.  I  said  to  myself: 
'  Whew  !  the  mantua-maker  is  presenting  his  bill  !  ' 
Madame  cried  and  went  on  like  mad  ;  but,  pshaw  !  when 
the  master  really  begins,  there's  no  one  like  him. 
There  isn't  a  cab-driver  in  Paris  who's  his  equal  for 
swearing." 

"And  M.  Van  Klopen?" 

"  Oh,  he's  used  to  such  scenes  !  When  gentlemen 
abuse  him  he  does  the  same  as  dogs  do  when  they  come 


12      BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

up  out  of  the  water;  he  just  shakes  his  head  and 
troubles  himself  no  more  about  it.  He  has  decidedly 
the  best  of  the  row.  He  has  furnished  the  goods,  and 
he'll  have  to  be  paid  sooner  or  later " 

"What!  hasn't  he  been  paid  then?" 

"  I  don't  know  ;  he's  still  here." 

A  terrible  crash  of  breaking  china  interrupted  this 
edifying  conversation.  "  There  !  "  exclaimed  one  of 
the  footmen,  "  that's  monsieur  ;  he  has  smashed  two  or 
three  hundred  francs'  worth  of  dishes.  He  must  be 
rich  to  pay  such  a  price  for  his  angry  fits." 

"  Well,"  observed  the  other,  "  if  I  were  in  monsieur's 
place  I  should  be  angry  too.  Would  you  let  your  wife 
have  her  dresses  fitted  on  by  a  man?  I  says  that  it's 
indecent.     I'm  only  a  servant,  but " 

"  Nonsense,  it's  the  fashion.  Besides,  monsieur  does 
not  care  about  that.    A  man  who " 

He  stopped  short;  in  fact,  the  others  had  motioned 
him  to  be  silent.  The  baron  was  surrounded  by  excep- 
tional servants,  and  the  presence  of  a  stranger  acted  as 
a  restraint  upon  them.  For  this  reason,  one  of  them, 
after  asking  Pascal  for  his  card,  opened  a  door  and 
ushered  him  into  a  small  room,  saying  :  "  I  will  go  and 
inform  the  baron.     Please  wait  here." 

"  Here,"  as  he  called  it,  was  a  sort  of  smoking-room 
hung  with  cashmere  of  fantastic  design  and  gorgeous 
hues,  and  encircled  by  a  low,  cushioned  divan,  covered 
with  the  same  material.  A  profusion  of  rare  and  costly 
objects  was  to  be  seen  on  all  sides,  armor,  statuary,  pic- 
tures, and  richly  ornamented  weapons.  But  Pascal, 
already  amazed  by  the  conversation  of  the  servants,  did 
not  think  of  examining  these  objects  of  virtu.  Through 
a  partially  open  doorway,  directly  opposite  the  one  he 
had  entered  by,  came  the  sound  of  loud  voices  in  excited 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE       13 

conversation.  Baron  Trigault,  the  baroness,  and  the 
famous  Van  Klopen  were  evidently  in  the  adjoining 
room.  It  was  a  woman,  the  baroness,  who  was  speak- 
ing, and  the  quivering  of  her  clear  and  somewhat  shrill 
voice  betrayed  a  violent  irritation,  which  was  only  re- 
strained with  the  greatest  difficulty.  "  It  is  hard  for 
the  wife  of  one  of  the  richest  men  in  Paris  to  see  a  bill 
for  absolute  necessities  disputed  in  this  style,"  she  was 
saying. 

A  man's  voice,  with  a  strong  Teutonic  accent,  the 
voice  of  Van  Klopen,  the  Hollander,  caught  up  the  re- 
frain. "  Yes,  strict  necessities,  one  can  swear  to  that. 
And  if,  before  flying  into  a  passion.  Monsieur  le  Baron 
had  taken  the  trouble  to  glance  over  my  little  bill,  he 
would  have  seen " 

"  No  more  !  You  bore  me  to  death.  Besides  I 
haven't  time  to  listen  to  your  nonsense  ;  they  are  wait- 
ing for  me  to  play  a  game  of  whist  at  the  club." 

This  time  it  was  the  master  of  the  house,  Baron 
Trigault,  who  spoke,  and  Pascal  recognized  his  voice 
instantly. 

"  If  monsieur  would  only  allow  me  to  read  the  items. 
It  will  take  but  a  moment,"  rejoined  Van  Klopen. 
And  as  if  he  had  construed  the  oath  that  answered  him 
as  an  exclamation  of  assent,  he  began  :  "  In  June,  a 
Hungarian  costume  with  jacket  and  sash,  two  train 
dresses  with  upper  skirts  and  trimmings  of  lace,  a  Med- 
icis  polonaise,  a  jockey  costume,  a  walking  costume,  a 
riding-habit,  two  morning-dresses,  a  Velléda  costume, 
an  evening  dress." 

"  I  was  obliged  to  attend  the  races  very  frequently 
during  the  month  of  June,"  remarked  the  baroness. 

But  the  illustrious  adorner  of  female  loveliness  had 
already  resumed  his  reading.     "  In  July  we  have  :  two 


14      BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

morning-jackets,  one  promenade  costume,  one  sailor 
suit,  one  Watteau  shepherdess  costume,  one  ordinary 
bathing-suit,  with  material  for  parasol  and  shoes  to 
match,  one  Pompadour  bathing-suit,  one  dressing-gown, 
one  close-fitting  Medicis  mantle,  two  opera  cloaks '" 

"  And  I  was  certainly  not  the  most  elegantly  attired 
of  the  ladies  at  Trouville,  where  I  spent  the  month  of 
July,"  interrupted  the  baroness. 

"  There  are  but  few  entries  in  the  month  of  August," 
continued  Van  Klopen.    "  We  have  :  a  morning-dress, 

a  travelling-dress,  with  trimmings "    And  he  went 

on  and  on,  gasping  for  breath,  rattling  ofï  the  ridiculous 
names  which  he  gave  to  his  "creations,"  and  interrupted 
every  now  and  then  by  the  blow  of  a  clinched  fist  on 
the  table,  or  by  a  savage  oath. 

Pascal  stood  in  the  smoking-room,  motionless  with 
astonishment.  He  did  not  know  what  surprised  him 
the  most.  Van  Klopen's  impudence  in  daring  to  read 
such  a  bill,  the  foolishness  of  the  woman  who  had  or- 
dered all  these  things,  or  the  patience  of  the  husband 
who  was  undoubtedly  going  to  pay  for  them.  At  last, 
after  what  seemed  an  interminable  enumeration.  Van 
Klopen  exclaimed  :  "  And  that's  all  !  " 

"  Yes,  that's  all,"  repeated  the  baroness,  like  an  echo. 

"That's  all!"  exclaimed  the  baron— "  that's  all! 
That  is  to  say,  in  four  months,  at  least  seven  hundred 
yards  of  silk,  velvet,  satin,  and  muslin,  have  been  put 
on  this  woman's  back  !  " 

"  The  dresses  of  the  present  day  require  a  great  deal 
of  material.  Monsieur  le  Baron  will  understand  that 
flounces,  puffs,  and  ruches " 

"  Naturally  !    Total,  twenty-seven  thousand  francs  !  " 

"  Excuse  me  !  Twenty-seven  thousand  nine  hundred 
and  thirty-three  francs,  ninety  centimes." 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE       15 

"  Call  it  twenty-eight  thousand  francs  then.  Ah, 
well,  M.  Van  Klopen,  if  you  are  ever  paid  for  this  rub- 
bish it  won't  be  by  me." 

If  Van  Klopen  was  expecting  this  dénouement,  Pas- 
cal wasn't;  in  fact,  he  was  so  startled,  that  an  ex- 
clamation escaped  him  which  would  have  betrayed  his 
presence  under  almost  any  other  circumstances.  What 
amazed  him  most  was  the  baron's  perfect  calmness, 
following,  as  it  did,  such  a  fit  of  furious  passion,  violent 
enough  even  to  be  heard  in  the  vestibule.  "  Either  he 
has  extraordinary  control  over  himself  or  this  scene 
conceals  some  mystery,"  thought  Pascal. 

Meanwhile,  the  man-milliner  continued  to  urge  his 
claims — but  the  baron,  instead  of  replying,  only  whis- 
tled; and  wounded  by  this  breach  of  good  manners. 
Van  Klopen  at  last  exclaimed  :  "  I  have  had  dealings 
with  all  the  distinguished  men  in  Europe,  and  never 
before  did  one  of  them  refuse  to  pay  me  for  his  wife's 
toilettes." 

"  Very  well — I  don't  pay  for  them — ^there's  the  dif- 
ference. Do  you  suppose  that  I,  Baron  Trigault,  that 
I've  worked  like  a  negro  for  twenty  years  merely  for 
the  purpose  of  aiding  your  charming  and  useful  branch 
of  industry?  Gather  up  your  papers,  Mr.  Ladies' 
Tailor.  There  may  be  husbands  who  believe  them- 
selves responsible  for  their  wives'  follies — it's  quite 
possible  there  are — ^but  I'm  not  made  of  that  kind  of 
stufï.  I  allow  Madame  Trigault  eight  thousand  francs 
a  month  for  her  toilette — that  is  sufficient — and  it  is  a 
matter  for  you  and  her  to  arrange  together.  What  did 
I  tell  you  last  year  when  I  paid  a  bill  of  forty  thousand 
francs  ?  That  I  would  not  be  responsible  for  any  more 
of  my  wife's  debts.  And  I  not  only  said  it,  I  formally 
notified  you  through  my  private  secretary." 


16      BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 


I  remember,  indeed- 


"  Then  why  do  you  come  to  me  with  your  bill?  It 
is  with  my  wife  that  you  have  opened  an  account. 
Apply  to  her,  and  leave  me  in  peace." 

"  Madame  promised  me " 

"  Teach  her  to  keep  her  promises." 

"  It  costs  a  great  deal  to  retain  one's  position  as  a 
leader  of  fashion  ;  and  many  of  the  most  distinguished 
ladies  are  obliged  to  run  into  debt,"  urged  Van  Klopen. 

"  That's  their  business.  But  my  wife  is  not  a  fine 
lady.  She  is  simply  Madame  Trigault,  a  baroness, 
thanks  to  her  husband's  gold  and  the  condescension  of 
a  worthy  German  prince,  who  was  in  want  of  money. 
She  is  not  a  person  of  consequence — she  has  no  rank 
to  keep  up." 

The  baroness  must  have  attached  immense  impor- 
tance to  the  satisfying  of  Van  Klopen's  demands,  for 
concealing  the  anger  this  humiliating  scene  undoubtedly 
caused  her,  she  condescended  to  try  and  explain,  and 
even  to  entreat.  "  I  have  been  a  little  extravagant, 
perhaps,"  she  said  ;  "  but  I  will  be  more  pfudent  in 
future.     Pay,  monsieur — pay  just  once  more," 

"No!" 

"  If  not  for  my  sake,  for  your  own," 

"  Not  a  farthing." 

By  the  baron's  tone,  Pascal  realized  that  his  wife 
would  never  shake  his  fixed  determination.  Such  must 
also  have  been  the  opinion  of  the  illustrious  ruler  of 
fashion,  for  he  returned  to  the  charge  with  an  argu- 
ment he  had  held  in  reserve.  "  If  this  is  the  case,  I 
shall,  to  my  great  regret,  be  obliged  to  fail  in  the  re- 
spect I  owe  to  Monsieur  le  Baron,  and  to  place  this  bill 
in  the  hands  of  a  solicitor." 

"  Send  him  along — send  him  along." 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE       17 

"  I  cannot  believe  that  monsieur  wishes  a  law-suit." 

"  In  that  you  are  greatly  mistaken.  Nothing  would 
please  me  better.  It  would  at  last  give  me  an  oppor- 
tunity to  say  what  I  think  about  your  dealings.  Do 
you  think  that  wives  are  to  turn  their  husbands  into 
machines  for  supplying  money?  You  draw  the  bow- 
string too  tightly,  my  dear  fellow — it  will  break.  I'll 
proclaim  on  the  house-top  what  others  dare  not  say, 
and  we'll  see  if  I  don't  succeed  in  organizing  a  little 
crusade  against  you."  And  animated  by  the  sound  of 
his  own  words,  his  anger  came  back  to  him,  and  in  a 
louder  and  ever  louder  voice  he  continued  :  "  Ah  !  you 
prate  of  the  scandal  that  would  be  created  by  my  re- 
sistance to  your  demands.  That's  your  system  ;  but, 
with  me,  it  won't  succeed.  You  threaten  me  with  a 
law-suit;  very  good.  I'll  take  it  upon  myself  to  en- 
lighten Paris,  for  I  know  your  secrets,  Mr.  Dress- 
maker. I  know  the  goings  on  in  your  establishment. 
It  isn't  always  to  talk  about  dress  that  ladies  stop  at 
your  place  on  returning  from  the  Bois.  You  sell  silks 
and  satins  no  doubt;  but  you  sell  Madeira,  and  excel- 
lent cigarettes  as  well,  and  there  are  some  who  don't 
walk  very  straight  on  leaving  your  establishment,  but 
smell  suspiciously  of  tobacco  and  absinthe.  Oh,  yes, 
let  us  go  to  law,  by  all  means  !  I  shall  have  an  advo- 
cate who  will  know  how  to  explain  the  parts  your 
customers  pay,  and  who  will  reveal  how,  with  your 
assistance,  they  obtain  money  from  other  sources  than 
their  husband's  cash-box," 

When  M.  Van  Klopen  was  addressed  in  this  style, 
he  was  not  at  all  pleased,  "  And  I  !"  he  exclaimed,  "  I 
will  tell  people  that  Baron  Trigault,  after  losing  all  his 
money  at  play,  repays  his  creditors  with  curses." 

The  noise  of  an  overturned  chair  told  Pascal  that  the 


18      BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

baron  had  sprung  up  in  a  furious  passion.  "  You 
may  say  what  you  Hke,  you  rascally  fool  !  but  not  in  my 
house,"  he  shouted.  "  Leave — leave,  or  I  will  ring " 

"  Monsieur " 

"  Leave,  leave,  I  tell  you,  or  I  sha'n't  have  the  pa- 
tience to  wait  for  a  servant  !  " 

He  must  have  joined  action  to  word,  and  have  seized 
Van  Klopen  by  the  collar  to  thrust  him  into  the  hall, 
for  Pascal  heard  a  sound  of  scuffling,  a  series  of  oaths 
worthy  of  a  coal-heaver,  two  or  three  frightened  cries 
from  the  baroness,  and  several  guttural  exclamations 
in  German.  Then  a  door  closed  with  such  violence  that 
the  whole  house  shook,  and  a  magnificent  clock,  fixed  to 
the  wall  of  the  smoking-room,  fell  on  to  the  floor. 

If  Pascal  had  not  heard  this  scene,  he  would  have 
deemed  it  incredible.  How  could  one  suppose  that  a 
creditor  would  leave  this  princely  mansion  with  his  bill 
unpaid  ?  But  more  and  more  clearly  he  understood  that 
there  must  be  some  greater  cause  of  difference  between 
husband  and  wife  than  this  bill  of  twenty-eight  thou- 
sand francs.  For  what  was  this  amount  to  a  confirmed 
gambler  who,  without  as  much  as  a  frown,  gained  or 
lost  a  fortune  every  evening  of  his  life.  Evidently 
there  was  some  skeleton  in  this  household — one  of  those 
terrible  secrets  which  make  a  man  and  his  wife  enemies, 
and  all  the  more  bitter  enemies  as  they  are  bound  to- 
gether by  a  chain  which  it  is  impossible  to  break.  And 
undoubtedly,  a  good  many  of  the  insults  which  the 
baron  had  heaped  upon  Van  Klopen  must  have  been 
intended  for  the  baroness.  These  thoughts  darted 
through  Pascal's  mind  with  the  rapidity  of  lightning, 
and  showed  him  the  horrible  position  in  which  he  was 
placed.  The  baron,  who  had  been  so  favorably  dis- 
posed toward  him,  and  from  whom  he  was  expecting  a 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE       19 

great  service,  would  undoubtedly  hate  him,  undoubtedly 
become  his  enemy,  when  he  learned  that  he  had  been 
a  listener,  although  an  involuntary  one,  to  this  conversa- 
tion with  Van  Klopen.  How  did  it  happen  that  he  had 
been  placed  in  this  dangerous  position?  What  had 
become  of  the  footman  who  had  taken  his  card  ?  These 
were  questions  which  he  was  unable  to  answer.  And 
what  was  he  to  do?  If  he  could  have  retired  noise- 
lessly, if  he  could  have  reached  the  courtyard  and  have 
made  his  escape  without  being  observed  he  would  not 
have  hesitated.  But  was  this  plan  practicable?  And 
would  not  his  card  betray  him?  Would  it  not  be  dis- 
covered sooner  or  later  that  he  had  been  in  the  smoking- 
room  while  jM.  Van  Klopen  was  in  the  dining-room? 
In  any  case,  delicacy  of  feeling  as  well  as  his  own  in- 
terest forbade  him  to  remain  any  longer  a  listener  to 
the  private  conversation  of  the  baron  and  his  wife. 

He  therefore  noisily  moved  a  chair,  and  coughed  in 
that  affected  style  which  means  in  every  country  : 
"  Take  care — I'm  here  !  "  But  he  did  not  succeed  in 
attracting  attention.  And  yet  the  silence  was  profound  ; 
he  could  distinctly  hear  the  creaking  of  the  baron's 
boots,  as  he  paced  to  and  fro,  and  the  sound  of  fingers 
nervously  beating  a  tattoo  on  the  table.  If  he  desired 
to  avoid  hearing  the  confidential  conversation,  which 
would  no  doubt  ensue  between  the  baron  and  his  wife, 
there  was  but  one  course  for  him  to  pursue,  and  that 
was  to  reveal  his  presence  at  once.  He  was  about  to 
do  so,  when  some  one  opened  a  door  which  must  have 
led  from  the  hall  into  the  dining-room.  He  listened 
attentively,  but  only  heard  a  few  confused  words,  to 
which  the  baron  replied  :  "  Very  well.  That's  sufficient. 
I  will  see  him  in  a  moment." 

Pascal  breathed  freely  once  more.    "  They  have  just 


20      BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

given  him  my  card,"  he  thought.  "  I  can  remain  now  ; 
he  will  come  here  in  a  moment." 

The  baron  must  really  have  started  to  leave  the 
room,  for  his  wife  exclaimed  :  "  One  word  more  :  have 
you  quite  decided?  " 

"  Oh,  fully  !  " 

"  You  are  resolved  to  leave  me  exposed  to  the  perse- 
cutions of  my  dressmaker  ?  " 

"  Van  Klopen  is  too  charming  and  polite  to  cause  you 
the  least  worry." 

"  You  will  brave  the  disgrace  of  a  law-suit?  " 

"  Nonsense  !  You  know  very  well  that  he  won't 
bring  any  action  against  me — unfortunately.  And,  be- 
sides, pray  tell  me  where  the  disgrace  would  be?  I 
have  a  foolish  wife — is  that  my  fault?  I  oppose  her 
absurd  extravagance — haven't  I  a  right  to  do  so?  If 
all  husbands  were  as  courageous,  we  should  soon  close 
the  establishments  of  these  artful  men,  who  minister 
to  your  vanity,  and  use  you  ladies  as  puppets,  or  living 
advertisements,  to  display  the  absurd  fashions  which 
enrich  them." 

The  baron  took  two  or  three  more  steps  forward,  as 
if  about  to  leave  the  room,  but  his  wife  interposed: 
"  The  Baroness  Trigault,  whose  husband  has  an  income 
of  seven  or  eight  hundred  thousand  francs  a  year,  can't 
go  about  clad  like  a  simple  woman  of  the  middle 
classes." 

"  I  should  see  nothing  so  very  improper  in  that." 

"  Oh,  I  know.  Only  your  ideas  don't  coincide  with 
mine.  I  shall  never  consent  to  make  myself  ridiculous 
among  the  ladies  of  my  set — among  my  friends." 

"  It  would  indeed  be  a  pity  to  arouse  the  disapproval 
of  your  friends." 

This  sneering  remark  certainly  irritated  the  baroness, 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE      21 

for  it  was  with  the  greatest  vehemence  that  she  re- 
phed  :  "  All  my  friends  are  ladies  of  the  highest  rank 
in  society — noble  ladies  !  " 

The  baron  no  doubt  shrugged  his  shoulders,  for  in  a 
tone  of  crushing  irony  and  scom,  he  exclaimed  :  "  Noble 
ladies  !  whom  do  you  call  noble  ladies,  pray  ?  The 
brainless  fools  who  only  think  of  displaying  themselves 
and  making  themselves  notorious? — the  senseless  idiots 
who  pique  themselves  on  surpassing  lewd  women  in 
audacity,  extravagance,  and  effrontery,  who  fleece  their 
husbands  as  cleverly  as  courtesans  fleece  their  lovers? 
Noble  ladies  !  who  drink,  and  smoke,  and  carouse,  who 
attend  masked  balls,  and  talk  slang  !  Noble  ladies  !  the 
idiots  who  long  for  the  applause  of  the  crowd,  and  con- 
sider notoriety  to  be  desirable  and  flattering.  A  woman 
is  only  noble  by  her  virtues — and  the  chief  of  all  vir- 
tues, modesty,  is  entirely  wanting  in  your  illustrious 
friends " 

"Monsieur,"  interrupted  the  baroness,  in  a  voice 
husky  with  anger,  "  you  forget  yourself — you " 

But  the  baron  was  well  under  way.  "  If  it  is  scandal 
that  crowns  one  a  great  lady,  you  are  one — and  one  of 
the  greatest  ;  for  you  are  notorious — almost  as  notori- 
ous as  Jenny  Fancy.  Can't  I  learn  from  the  news- 
papers all  your  sayings  and  gestures,  your  amusements, 
your  occupations,  and  the  toilettes  you  wear  ?  It  is  im- 
possible to  read  of  a  first  performance  at  a  theatre,  or 
of  a  horse-race,  without  finding  your  name  coupled  with 
that  of  Jenny  Fancy,  or  Cora  Pearl,  or  Ninette  Simplon. 
I  should  be  a  very  strange  husband  indeed,  if  I  wasn't 
proud  and  delighted.  Ah!  you  are  a  treasure  to  the 
reporters.  On  the  day  before  yesterday  the  Baroness 
Trigault  skated  in  the  Bois.  Yesterday  she  was  driving 
in  her  pony-carriage.    To-day  she  distinguished  herself 


22      BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

by  her  skill  at  pigeon-shooting.  To-morrow  she  will 
display  herself  half  nude  in  some  tableaux  vivants.  On 
the  day  after  to-morrow  she  will  inaugurate  a  new  style 
of  hair-dressing,  and  take  part  in  a  comedy.  It  is  al- 
ways the  Baroness  Trigault  who  is  the  observed  of  all 
observers  at  Vincennes.  The  Baroness  Trigault  has 
lost  five  hundred  louis  in  betting.  The  Baroness 
Trigault  uses  her  lorgnette  with  charming  impertinence. 
It  is  she  who  has  declared  it  proper  form  to  take  a 
'  drop  '  on  returning  from  the  Bois.  No  one  is  so  famed 
for  *  form/  as  the  baroness — and  silk  merchants  have 
bestowed  her  name  upon  a  color.  People  rave  of  the 
Trigault  blue — what  glory  !  There  are  also  costumes 
Trigault,  for  the  witty,  elegant  baroness  has  a  host  of 
admirers  who  follow  her  everywhere,  and  loudly  sing 
her  praises.  This  is  what  I,  a  plain,  honest  man,  read 
every  day  in  the  newspapers.  The  whole  world  not 
only  knows  how  my  wife  dresses,  but  how  she  looks 
en  dishabille,  and  how  she  is  formed;  folks  are  aware 
that  she  has  an  exquisite  foot,  a  divinely-shaped  leg, 
and  a  perfect  hand.  No  one  is  ignorant  of  the  fact  that 
my  wife's  shoulders  are  of  dazzling  whiteness,  and  that 
high  on  the  left  shoulder  there  is  a  most  enticing  little 
mole.  I  had  the  satisfaction  of  reading  this  particular 
last  evening.  It  is  charming,  upon  my  word  !  and  I  am 
truly  a  fortunate  man  !  " 

In  the  smoking-room,  Pascal  could  hear  the  baroness 
angrily  stamp  her  foot,  as  she  exclaimed  :  "  It  is  an  out- 
rageous insult — your  journalists  are  most  impertinent." 

"Why?    Do  they  ever  trouble  honest  women?" 

"  They  wouldn't  trouble  me  if  I  had  a  husband  who 
knew  how  to  make  them  treat  me  with  respect  !  " 

The  baron  laughed  a  strident,  nervous  laugh,  which 
it  was  not  pleasant  to  hear,  and  which  revealed  the  fact 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE      23 

that  intense  suffering  was  hidden  beneath  all  this  banter. 
"  Would  you  like  me  to  fight  a  duel  then  ?  After  twenty 
years  has  the  idea  of  ridding  yourself  of  me  occurred 
to  you  again?  I  can  scarcely  believe  it.  You  know 
too  well  that  you  would  receive  none  of  my  money, 
that  I  have  guarded  against  that.  Besides,  you  would 
be  inconsolable  if  the  newspapers  ceased  talking  about 
you  for  a  single  day.  Respect  yourself,  and  you  will 
be  respected.  The  publicity  you  complain  of  is  the  last 
anchor  which  prevents  society  from  drifting  one  knows 
not  where.  Those  who  would  not  listen  to  the  warn- 
ing voice  of  honor  and  conscience  are  restrained  by  the 
fear  of  a  little  paragraph  which  might  disclose  their 
shame.  Now  that  a  woman  no  longer  has  a  conscience, 
tfie  newspapers  act  in  place  of  it.  And  I  think  it  quite 
right,  for  it  is  our  only  hope  of  salvation." 

By  the  stir  in  the  adjoining  room,  Pascal  felt  sure 
that  the  baroness  had  stationed  herself  before  the  door 
to  prevent  her  husband  from  leaving  her.  "  Ah  !  well, 
monsieur,"  she  exclaimed,  "  I  declare  to  you  that  I 
must  have  Van  Klopen's  twenty-eight  thousand  francs 
before  this  evening.  I  will  have  them,  too;  I  am  re- 
solved to  have  them,  and  you  will  give  them  to  me." 

"  Oh  !  "  thundered  the  baron,  "  you  ztill  have  them — 

you  will "    He  paused,  and  then,  after  a  moment's 

reflection,  he  said  :  "  Very  well.  So  be  it  !  I  will  give 
you  this  amount,  but  not  just  now.  Still  if,  as  you  say, 
it  is  absolutely  necessary  that  you  should  have  it  to- 
day, there  is  a  means  of  procuring  it.  Pawn  your  dia- 
monds for  thirty  thousand  francs — I  authorize  you  to 
do  so;  and  I  give  you  my  word  of  honor  that  I  will 
redeem  them  within  a  week.  Say,  will  you  do  this?  " 
And,  as  the  baroness  made  no  reply,  he  continued  : 
"  You  don't  answer  !  shall  I  tell  you  why  ?     It  is  be- 


24      BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

cause  your  diamonds  were  long  since  sold  and  replaced 
by  imitation  ones  ;  it  is  because  you  are  head  over  heels 
in  debt;  it  is  because  you  have  stooped  so  low  as  to 
borrow  your  maid's  savings;  it  is  because  you  already 
owe  three  thousand  francs  to  one  of  my  coachmen  ;  it 
is  because  our  steward  lends  you  money  at  the  rate  of 
thirty  or  forty  per  cent." 

"  It  is  false  !  " 

The  baron  sneered.  "  You  certainly  must  think  me 
a  much  greater  fool  than  I  really  am  !  "  he  repHed. 
"  I'm  not  often  at  home,  it's  true — the  sight  of  you 
exasperates  me;  but  I  know  what's  going  on.  You 
believe  me  your  dupe,  but  you  are  altogether  mistaken. 
It  is  not  twenty-seven  thousand  francs  you  owe  Van 
Klopen,  but  fifty  or  sixty  thousand.  However,  he  is 
careful  not  to  demand  payment.  If  he  brought  me  a 
bill  this  morning,  it  was  only  because  you  had  begged 
him  to  do  so,  and  because  it  had  been  agreed  he  should 
give  you  the  money  back  if  I  paid  him.  In  short,  if 
you  require  twenty-eight  thousand  francs  before  to- 
night, it  is  because  M.  Fernand  de  Coralth  has  de- 
manded that  sum,  and  because  you  have  promised  to 
give  it  to  him  !  " 

Leaning  against  the  wall  of  the  smoking-room, 
speechless  and  motionless,  holding  his  breath,  with  his 
hands  pressed  upon  his  heart,  as  if  to  stop  its  throb- 
bings,  Pascal  Ferailleur  listened.  He  no  longer  thought 
of  flying;  he  no  longer  thought  of  reproaching  himself 
for  his  enforced  indiscretion.  He  had  lost  all  con- 
sciousness of  his  position.  The  name  of  the  Viscount 
de  Coralth,  thus  mentioned  in  the  course  of  ±is  fright- 
ful scene,  came  as  a  revelation  to  him.  He  now  under- 
stood the  meaning  of  the  baron's  conduct.  His  visit 
to  the  Rue  d'Ulm,  and  his  promises  of  help  were  all 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE      25 

explained.  "  My  mother  was  right,"  he  thought;  "  the 
baron  hates  that  miserable  viscount  mortally.  He  will 
do  all  in  his  power  to  assist  me." 

Meanwhile,  the  baroness  energetically  denied  her  hus- 
band's charges.  She  swore  that  she  did  not  know  what 
he  meant.  What  had  M.  de  Coralth  to  do  with  all 
this?  She  commanded  her  husband  to  speak  more 
plainly — to  explain  his  odious  insinuations. 

He  allowed  her  to  speak  for  a  moment,  and  then 
suddenly,  in  a  harsh,  sarcastic  voice,  he  interrupted  her 
by  saying  :  "  Oh  !  enough  !  No  more  hypocrisy  !  Why 
do  you  try  to  defend  yourself?  What  matters  one 
crime  more?  I  know  only  too  well  that  what  I  say  is 
true;  and  if  you  desire  proofs,  they  shall  be  in  your 
hands  in  less  than  half  an  hour.  It  is  a  long  time  since 
I  was  blind — full  twenty  years  !  Nothing  concerning 
you  has  escaped  my  knowledge  and  observation  since 
the  cursed  day  when  I  discovered  the  depths  of  your 
disgrace  and  infamy — since  the  terrible  evening  when 
I  heard  you  plan  to  murder  me  in  cold  blood.  You  had 
grown  accustomed  to  freedom  of  action  ;  while  I,  who 
had  gone  ofif  with  the  first  gold-seekers,  was  braving 
a  thousand  dangers  in  California,  so  as  to  win  wealth 
and  luxury  for  you  more  quickly.  Fool  that  I  was  ! 
No  task  seemed  too  hard  or  too  distasteful  when  I 
thought  of  you — and  I  was  always  thinking  of  you. 
My  mind  was  at  peace — I  had  perfect  faith  in  you.  We 
had  a  daughter  ;  and  if  a  fear  or  a  doubt  entered  my 
mind,  I  told  myself  that  the  sight  of  her  cradle  would 
drive  all  evil  thoughts  from  your  heart.  The  adultery 
of  a  childless  wife  may  be  forgiven  or  explained;  but 
that  of  a  mother,  never  !  Fool  !  idiot  !  that  I  was  !  With 
what  joyous  pride,  on  my  return  after  an  absence  of 
eighteen  months,   I  showed  you  the  treasures  I  had 


26      BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

brought  back  with  me  !  I  had  two  hundred  thousand 
francs  !  I  said  to  you  as  I  embraced  you  :  '  It  is  yours, 
my  well-beloved,  the  source  of  all  my  happiness  !  '  But 
you  did  not  care  for  me — I  wearied  you  !  You  loved 
another  !  And  while  you  were  deceiving  me  with  your 
caresses,  you  were,  with  fiendish  skill,  preparing  a  con- 
spiracy which,  if  it  had  succeeded,  would  have  resulted 
in  my  death  !  I  should  consider  myself  amply  revenged 
if  I  could  make  you  suffer  for  a  single  day  all  the  tor- 
ments that  I  endured  for  long  months.  For  this  was 
not  all  !  You  had  not  even  the  excuse,  if  excuse  it  be, 
of  a  powerful,  all-absorbing  passion.  Convinced  of 
your  treachery,  I  resolved  to  ascertain  everything,  and 
I  discovered  that  in  my  absence  you  had  become  a 
mother.  Why  didn't  I  kill  you?  How  did  I  have  the 
courage  to  remain  silent  and  conceal  what  I  knew? 
Ah  !  it  was  because,  by  watching  you,  I  hoped  to  dis- 
cover the  cursed  bastard  and  your  accomplice.  It  was 
because  I  dreamed  of  a  vengeance  as  terrible  as  the 
offence.  I  said  to  myself  that  the  day  would  come 
when,  at  any  risk,  you  would  try  to  see  your  child 
again,  to  embrace  her,  and  provide  for  her  future. 
Fool  !  fool  that  I  was  !  You  had  already  forgotten  her  ! 
When  you  received  news  of  my  intended  return,  she 
was  sent  to  some  foundling  asylum,  or  left  to  die  upon 
some  door-step.  Have  you  ever  thought  of  her?  Have 
you  ever  asked  what  has  become  of  her?  ever  asked 
yourself  if  she  had  needed  bread  while  you  have  been 
living  in  almost  regal  luxury?  ever  asked  yourself  into 
what  depths  of  vice  she  may  have  fallen  ?  " 

"  Always  the  same  ridiculous  accusation  !  "  exclaimed 
the  baroness. 

"  Yes,  always  !  " 

"  You   must   know,   however,   that   this   story  of  a 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE      27 

child  is  only  a  vile  slander.  I  told  you  so  when  you 
spoke  of  it  to  me  a  dozen  years  afterward.  I  have  re- 
peated it  a  thousand  times  since." 

The  baron  uttered  a  sigh  that  was  very  like  a  sob, 
and  without  paying  any  heed  to  his  wife's  words,  he 
continued  :  "If  I  consented  to  allow  you  to  remain 
under  my  roof,  it  was  only  for  the  sake  of  our  daugh- 
ter. I  trembled  lest  the  scandal  of  a  separation  should 
fall  upon  her.  But  it  was  useless  suffering  on  my  part. 
She  was  as  surely  lost  as  you  yourself  were;  and  it 
was  your  work,  too  !  " 

"  What  !  you  blame  me  for  that  ?  " 

"  Whom  ought  I  to  blame,  then  ?  Who  took  her  to 
balls,  and  theatres  and  races — to  every  place  where  a 
young  girl  ought  not  to  be  taken?  Who  initiated  her 
into  what  you  call  high  life?  and  who  used  her  as  a 
discreet  and  easy  chaperon?  Who  married  her  to  a 
wretch  who  is  a  disgrace  to  the  title  he  bears,  and  who 
has  completed  the  work  of  demoralization  you  began? 
And  what  is  your  daughter  to-day?  Her  extravagance 
has  made  her  notorious  even  among  the  shameless 
women  who  pretend  to  be  leaders  of  society.  She  is 
scarcely  twenty-two,  and  there  is  not  a  single  prejudice 
left  for  her  to  brave  !  Her  husband  is  the  companion 
of  actresses  and  courtesans;  her  own  companions  are 
no  better — and  in  less  than  two  years  the  million  of 
francs  which  I  bestowed  on  her  as  a  dowry  has  been 
squandered,  recklessly  squandered — for  there  isn't  a 
penny  of  it  left.  And,  at  this  very  hour,  my  daughter 
and  my  son-in-law  are  plotting  to  extort  money  from 
me.  On  the  day  before  yesterday — listen  carefully  to 
this — my  son-in-law  came  to  ask  me  for  a  hundred 
thousand  francs,  and  when  I  refused  them,  he  threat- 
ened if  I  did  not  give  them  to  him  that  he  would  pub- 


28      BARON   TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

lish  some  letters  written  by  my  daughter — by  his  wife 
— to  some  low  scoundrel.  I  was  horrified  and  gave 
him  what  he  asked.  But  that  same  evening  I  learned 
that  the  husband  and  wife,  my  daughter  and  my  son- 
in-law,  had  concocted  this  vile  conspiracy  together. 
Yes,  I  have  positive  proofs  of  it.  Leaving  here,  and 
not  wishing  to  return  home  that  day,  he  telegraphed  the 
good  news  to  his  wife.  But  in  his  delight  he  made  a  mis- 
take in  the  address,  and  the  telegram  was  brought  here. 
I  opened  it,  and  read  :  '  Papa  has  fallen  into  the  trap, 
my  darling.  I  beat  my  drum,  and  he  surrendered  at 
once.'  Yes,  that  is  what  he  dared  to  write,  and  sign 
with  his  own  name,  and  then  send  to  his  wife — my 
daughter  !  " 

Pascal  was  absolutely  terrified.  He  wondered  if  he 
were  not  the  victim  of  some  absurd  nightmare — if  his 
senses  were  not  playing  him  false.  He  had  little  con- 
ception of  the  terrible  dramas  which  are  constantly  en- 
acted in  these  superb  mansions,  so  admired  and  envied 
by  the  passing  crowd.  He  thought  that  the  baroness 
would  be  crushed — that  she  would  fall  on  her  knees 
before  her  husband.  What  a  mistake  !  The  tone  of 
her  voice  told  him  that,  instead  of  yielding,  she  was 
only  bent  on  retaliation. 

"  Does  your  son-in-law  do  anything  worse  than 
you?  "  she  exclaimed.  "  How  dare  you  censure  him — 
you  who  drag  your  name  through  all  the  gambling  dens 
of  Europe?  " 

"  Wretch  !  "  interrupted  the  baron ,  "  wretch  !  "  But 
quickly  mastering  himself,  he  remarked  :  "  Yes,  it's 
true  that  I  gamble.  People  say,  '  That  great  Baron 
Trigault  is  never  without  cards  in  his  hands  !  '  But 
you  know  very  well  that  I  really  hold  gambling  in  hor- 
ror— that  I  loathe  it.     But  when  I  play,  I  sometimes 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE      29 

forget — for  I  must  forget.  I  tried  drink,  but  it 
wouldn't  drown  thought,  so  I  had  recourse  to  cards; 
and  when  the  stakes  are  large,  and  my  fortune  is 
imperilled,  I  sometimes  lose  consciousness  of  my 
misery  !  " 

The  baroness  gave  vent  to  a  cold,  sneering  laugh, 
and,  in  a  tone  of  mocking  commiseration,  she  said  : 
"  Poor  baron  !  It  is  no  doubt  in  the  hope  of  forgetting 
your  sorrows  that  you  spend  all  your  time — when  you 
are  not  gambling — with  a  woman  named  Lia  d'Argelès. 
She's  rather  pretty.  I  have  seen  her  several  times  in 
the  Bois " 

"  Be  silent  !  "  exclaimed  the  baron ,  "  be  silent  ! 
Don't  insult  an  unfortunate  woman  who  is  a  thousand 
times  better  than  yourself."  And,  feeling  that  he  could 
endure  no  more — that  he  could  no  longer  restrain  his 
passion,  he  cried  :  "  Out  of  my  sight  !  Go  !  or  I  sha'n't 
be  responsible  for  my  acts  !  " 

Pascal  heard  a  chair  move,  the  floor  creak,  and  a 
moment  afterward  a  lady  passed  quickly  through  the 
smoking-room.  How  was  it  that  she  did  not  perceive 
him?  No  doubt,  because  she  was  greatly  agitated,  in 
spite  of  her  bravado.  And,  besides,  he  was  standing  a 
little  back  in  the  shade.  But  he  saw  her,  and  his  brain 
reeled.    "  Good  Lord  !  what  a  likeness  !  "  he  murmured. 


Ill 

It  was  as  if  he  had  seen  an  apparition,  and  he  was 
vainly  striving  to  drive  away  a  terrible,  mysterious 
fear,  when  a  heavy  footfall  made  the  floor  of  the  din- 
ing-room creak  anew.  The  noise  restored  him  to  con- 
sciousness   of   his    position.      "  It    is    the   baron  !  "   he 


30      BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

thought;  "  he  is  coining  this  way!  If  he  finds  mc  here 
I  am  lost  ;  he  will  never  consent  to  help  me.  A  man 
would  never  forgive  another  man  for  hearing  what  I 
have  just  heard." 

Why  should  he  not  try  to  make  his  escape?  The 
card,  bearing  the  name  of  Mauméjan,  would  be  no 
proof  of  his  visit.  He  could  see  the  baron  somewhere 
else  some  other  day — elsewhere  than  at  his  own  house, 
so  that  he  need  not  fear  the  recognition  of  the  servants. 
These  thoughts  flashed  through  his  mind,  and  he  was 
about  to  fly,  when  a  harsh  cry  held  him  spell-bound. 
Baron  Trigault  was  standing  on  the  threshold.  His 
emotion,  as  is  almost  always  the  case  with  corpulent 
people,  was  evinced  by  a  frightful  distortion  of  his 
features.  His  face  was  transformed,  his  lips  had  be- 
come perfectly  white,  and  his  eyes  seemed  to  be  start- 
ing from  their  sockets.  "How  came  you  here?"  he 
asked,  in  a  husky  voice. 

"  Your  servants  ushered  me  into  this  room." 

"  Who  are  you  ?  " 

"What!  monsieur,  don't  you  recognize  me?"  re- 
joined Pascal,  who  in  his  agitation  forgot  that  the 
baron  had  seen  him  only  twice  before.  He  forgot  the 
absence  of  his  beard,  his  almost  ragged  clothing,  and 
all  the  precautions  he  had  taken  to  render  recognition 
impossible. 

"  I  have  never  met  any  person  named  Mauméjan," 
said  the  baron. 

"  Ah  !  monsieur,  that's  not  my  name.  Have  you 
forgotten  the  innocent  man  who  was  caught  in  that 
infamous  snare  set  for  him  by  the  Viscount  de 
Coralth?" 

"  Yes,  yes,"  replied  the  baron,  "I  remember  you 
now."     And  then  recollecting  the  terrible  scene  that 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE      31 

had  just  taken  place  in  the  adjoining  room  :  "  How  long 
have  you  been  here  ?  "  he  asked. 

Should  Pascal  tell  a  falsehood,  or  confess  the  truth? 
He  hesitated,  but  his  hesitation  lasted  scarcely  the  tenth 
part  of  a  second.  "  I  have  been  here  about  half  an 
hour,"  he  replied. 

The  baron's  livid  cheeks  suddenly  became  purple,  his 
eyes  glittered,  and  it  seemed  by  his  threatening  gesture 
as  if  he  were  strongly  tempted  to  murder  this  man, 
who  had  discovered  the  terrible,  disgraceful  secrets  of 
his  domestic  life.  But  it  was  a  mere  flash  of  energy. 
The  terrible  ordeal  which  he  had  just  passed  through 
had  exhausted  him  mentally  and  physically,  and  it  was 
in  a  faltering  voice  that  he  resumed  :  "  Then  you  have 
not  lost  a  word — a  word  of  what  was  said  in  the  other 


room 


"  Not  a  word." 

The  baron  sank  on  to  the  divan.  "  So  the  knowledge 
of  my  disgrace  is  no  longer  confined  to  myself  !  "  he 
exclaimed.  "  A  stranger's  eye  has  penetrated  the 
depths  of  misery  I  have  fallen  into!  The  secret  of 
my  wretchedness  and  shame  is  mine  no  longer  !  " 

"  Oh,  monsieur,  monsieur  !  "  interrupted  Pascal. 
"  Before  I  recross  the  threshold  of  your  home,  all  shall 
have  been  forgotten.  I  swear  it  by  all  that  is  most 
sacred  !  " 

He  had  raised  his  hand  as  if  to  take  a  solemn  oath, 
when  the  baron  caught  hold  of  it,  and,  pressing  it  with 
sorrowful  gratitude,  exclaimed:  "I  believe  you!  You 
are  a  man  of  honor — I  only  needed  to  see  your  home  to 
be  convinced  of  that.  You  will  not  laugh  at  my  mis- 
fortunes or  my  misery  !  "  He  must  have  been  suffer- 
ing frightfully,  for  big  tears  rolled  slowly  down  his 
cheeks.     "  What  have  I  done,  my  God  !  that  I  should 


2>2       BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

be  so  cruelly  punished  ?  "  he  continued.  "  I  have  al- 
ways been  generous  and  charitable,  and  ready  to  help 
all  who  applied  to  me.  I  am  utterly  alone  !  I  have  a 
wife  and  a  daughter — but  they  hate  me.  They  long  for 
my  death,  which  would  give  them  possession  of  my 
wealth.  What  torture  !  For  months  together  I  dared 
not  eat  a  morsel  of  food,  either  in  my  own  house,  or 
in  the  house  of  my  son-in-law.  I  feared  poison  ;  and 
I  never  partook  of  a  dish  until  I  had  seen  my  daughter 
or  my  wife  do  so.  To  prevent  a  crime,  I  was  obliged 
to  resort  to  the  strangest  expedients.  I  made  a  will, 
and  left  my  property  in  such  a  way  that  if  I  die,  my 
family  will  not  receive  one  penny.  So,  they  now  have 
an  interest  in  prolonging  my  life."  As  he  spoke  he 
sprang  up  with  an  almost  frenzied  air,  and,  seizing 
Pascal  by  the  arm,  again  continued.  "  Nor  is  this  all  ! 
This  woman — my  wife — you  know — you  have  heard 
the  extent  of  her  shame  and  degradation.  Ah,  well  ! 
I — love  her  !  " 

Pascal  recoiled  with  an  exclamation  of  mingled  hor- 
ror and  consternation. 

"  This  amazes  you,  eh?  "  rejoined  the  baron.  "  It  is 
indeed  incomprehensible,  monstrous — but  it  is  the 
truth.  It  is  to  gratify  her  desire  for  luxury  that  I 
have  toiled  to  amass  millions.  If  I  purchased  a  title, 
which  is  absurd  and  ridiculous,  it  was  only  because  I 
wished  to  satisfy  her  vanity.  Do  what  she  may,  I  can 
only  see  in  her  the  chaste  and  beautiful  wife  of  our 
early  married  life.  It  is  cowardly,  absurd,  ridiculous — 
I  realize  it;  but  my  love  is  stronger  than  my  reason 
or  my  will.  I  love  her  madly,  passionately;  I  cannot 
tear  her  from  my  heart  !  " 

So  speaking,  he  sank  sobbing  on  to  the  divan  again. 
Was  this,    indeed,  the    frivolous    and    jovial    Baron 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE       33 

Trigault  whom  Pascal  had  seen  at  Madame  d'Argclès's 
house — the  man  of  self-satisfied  mien  and  superb  assur- 
ance, the  good-natured  cynic,  the  frequenter  of  gam- 
bling-dens ?  Alas,  yes  !  But  the  baron  whom  the  world 
knew  was  only  a  comedian;  this  was  the  real  man. 

After  a  little  while  he  succeeded  in  controlling  his 
emotion,  and  in  a  comparatively  calm  voice  he  ex- 
claimed: "  But  it  is  useless  to  distract  one's  mind  with 
an  incurable  evil.  Let  us  speak  of  yourself,  M.  Ferail- 
leur.     To  what  do  I  owe  the  honor  of  this  visit?  " 

"  To  your  own  kind  oflfer,  monsieur,  and  the  hope 
that  you  will  help  me  in  refuting  this  slander,  and 
wreaking  vengeance  upon  those  who  have  ruined  me." 

"  Oh  !  yes,  I  will  help  you  in  that  to  the  full  extent 
of  my  power,"  exclaimed  the  baron.  But  experience 
reminded  him  that  confidential  disclosures  ought  not  to 
be  made  with  the  doors  open,  so  he  rose,  shut  them, 
and  returning  to  Pascal,  said  :  "  Explain  in  what  way 
I  can  be  of  service  to  you,  monsieur." 

It  was  not  without  many  misgivings  that  Pascal  had 
presented  himself  at  the  baron's  house,  but  after  what 
he  had  heard  he  felt  no  further  hesitation  ;  he  could 
speak  with  perfect  freedom.  "  It  is  quite  unnecessary 
for  me  to  tell  you,  Monsieur  le  Baron,"  he  began, 
"  that  the  cards  which  made  me  win  were  inserted  in 
the  pack  by  M.  de  Coralth — that  is  proven  beyond 
question,  and  whatever  the  consequences  may  be,  I 
shall  have  my  revenge.  But  before  striking  him,  I  wish 
to  reach  the  man  whose  instrument  he  was." 

"  What  !  you  suppose " 

"  I  don't  suppose — I  am  sure  that  M.  de  Coralth 
acted  in  obedience  to  the  instructions  of  some  other 
scoundrel  whose  courage  does  not  equal  his  mean- 
ness." 


34      BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

"  Perhaps  so  !  I  think  he  would  shrink  from  nothing 
in  the  way  of  rascahty.  But  who  could  have  employed 
him  in  this  vile  work  of  dishonoring  an  honest  man  ?  " 

"  The  Marquis  de  Valorsay." 

On  hearing  this  name,  the  baron  bounded  to  his  feet. 
"  Impossible  !  "  he  exclaimed  ;  "  absolutely  impossible  ! 
M.  de  Valorsay  is  incapable  of  the  villainy  you  ascribe 
to  him.  What  do  I  say? — he  is  even  above  suspicion. 
I  have  known  him  for  years,  and  I  have  never  met  a 
more  loyal,  more  honorable,  or  more  courageous  man. 
He  is  one  of  my  few  trusted  friends  ;  we  see  each  other 
almost  every  day.  I  am  expecting  a  visit  from  him 
even  now." 

"  Still  it  was  he  who  incited  M.  de  Coralth  to  do  the 
deed." 

"But  why?    What  could  have  been  his  object?" 

"  To  win  a  young  girl  whom  I  love.  She — loved  me, 
and  he  saw  that  I  was  an  obstacle.  He  put  me  out  of 
the  way  more  surely  than  if  he  had  murdered  me.  If 
I  died,  she  might  mourn  for  me — dishonored,  she  would 
spurn  me " 

"  Is  Valorsay  so  madly  in  love  with  the  girl,  then?  " 

"  I  think  he  cares  but  very  little  for  her." 

"  Then  why " 

"  She  is  the  heiress  of  several  millions." 

It  was  evident  that  this  explanation  did  not  shake 
Baron  Trigault's  faith  in  his  friend.  "  But  the  marquis 
has  an  income  of  a  hundred  and  fifty  or  two  hundred 
thousand  francs,"  said  he  ;  "  that  is  an  all-sufficient 
justification.  With  his  fortune  and  his  name,  he  is  in 
a  position  to  choose  his  wife  from  among  all  the  heir- 
esses of  France.  Why  should  he  address  his  attentions 
in  particular  to  the  woman  you  love  ?  Ah  !  if  he 
were  poor — if  his  fortune  were  impaired — if  he  felt 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE      35 

the  need  of  regilding  his  escutcheon,  hke  my  son-in- 
law '" 

He  paused  ;  there  was  a  rap  at  the  door.  The  baron 
called  out  :  "  Come  in,"  and  a  valet  appeared,  and  in- 
formed his  master  that  the  Marquis  de  Valorsay  wished 
to  speak  with  him. 

It  was  the  enemy!  Pascal's  features  were  distorted 
with  rage  ;  but  he  did  not  stir — he  did  not  utter  a  word. 
"  Ask  the  marquis  into  the  next  room,"  said  the  baron. 
"  I  will  join  him  there  at  once."  Then  as  the  servant 
retired,  the  baron  turned  to  Pascal  and  said  :  "  Well, 
M.  Ferailleur,  do  you  divine  my  intentions  ?  " 

"  I  think  so,  monsieur.  You  probably  intend  me  to 
hear  the  conversation  you  are  going  to  have  with  M. 
de  Valorsay." 

"  Exactly.  I  shall  leave  the  door  open,  and  you  can 
listen." 

This  word,  "  listen,"  was  uttered  without  bitterness, 
or  even  reproach  ;  and  yet  Pascal  could  not  help  blush- 
ing and  hanging  his  head.  "  I  wish  to  prove  to  you 
that  your  suspicions  are  without  foundation,"  pursued 
the  baron.  "  Rest  assured  that  I  shall  prove  this  con- 
clusively. I  will  conduct  the  conversation  in  the  form 
of  a  cross-examination,  and  after  the  marquis's  de- 
parture, you  will  be  obliged  to  confess  that  you  were 
wrong." 

"  Or  you,  that  I  am  right?  " 

"  So  be  it.  Any  one  is  liable  to  be  mistaken,  and  I 
am  not  obstinate." 

He  was  about  to  leave  the  room,  when  Pascal  de- 
tained him.  "  I  scarcely  know  how  to  testify  my  grati- 
tude even  now,  monsieur,  and  yet — if  I  dared — if  I  did 
not  fear  to  abuse  your  kindness,  I  should  ask  one  more 
favor." 


Z6      BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

"  Speak,  Monsieur  Ferailleur." 

"  It  is  this,  I  do  not  know  the  Marquis  de  Valorsay  ; 
and  if,  instead  of  leaving  the  door  wide  open,  you 
would  partially  close  it,  I  should  hear  as  distinctly,  and 
I  could  also  see  him." 

"  Agreed,"  replied  the  baron.  And,  opening  the 
door,  he  passed  into  the  dining-room,  with  his  right 
hand  cordially  extended,  and  saying,  in  his  most  genial 
tones  :  "  Excuse  me,  my  dear  friend,  for  keeping  you 
waiting.  I  received  your  letter  this  morning,  and  I  was 
expecting  you,  but  some  unexpected  business  required 
my  attention  just  now.    Are  you  quite  well?  " 

As  the  baron  entered  the  room,  the  marquis  had 
stepped  quickly  forward  to  meet  him.  Either  he  was 
inspired  with  fresh  hope,  or  else  he  had  wonderful 
powers  of  self-control,  for  never  had  he  looked  more 
calm — never  had  his  face  evinced  haughtier  indiffer- 
ence, more  complete  satisfaction  with  himself,  and 
greater  contempt  for  others.  He  was  dressed  with 
even  more  than  usual  care,  and  in  perfect  taste  as  well  ; 
moreover,  his  valet  had  surpassed  himself  in  dressing 
his  hair — for  one  would  have  sworn  that  his  locks  were 
still  luxuriant.  If  he  experienced  any  secret  anxiety, 
it  only  showed  itself  in  a  slightly  increased  stiffness  of 
his  right  leg — the  limb  broken  in  hunting.  "  I  ought 
rather  to  inquire  concerning  your  own  health,"  he  re- 
marked. "  You  seem  greatly  disturbed  ;  your  cravat  is 
untied."  And,  pointing  to  the  broken  china  scattered 
about  the  floor,  he  added  :  "  On  seeing  this,  I  asked 
myself  if  an  accident  had  not  happened." 

"  The  baroness  was  taken  suddenly  ill  at  the  break- 
fast table.  Her  fainting  fit  startled  me  a  little.  But 
it  was  a  mere  trifle.  She  has  quite  recovered  already, 
and  you  may  rely  upon  her  applauding  your  victory  at 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE      37 

Vincennes  to-day.  She  has  I  don't  know  how  many 
hundred  louis  staked  upon  your  horses." 

The  marquis's  countenance  assumed  an  expression  of 
cordial  regret.  "  I  am  very  sorry,  upon  my  word  !  " 
he  exclaimed.  ''  But  I  sha'n't  take  part  in  the  races 
at  Vincennes.  I  have  withdrawn  my  horses.  And,  in 
future,  I  shall  have  nothing  to  do  with  racing." 

"  Nonsense  !  " 

"  It  is  the  truth,  however.  I  have  been  led  to  this 
determination  by  the  infamous  slander  which  has  been 
circulated  respecting  me." 

This  answer  was  a  mere  trifle,  but  it  somewhat  shook 
Baron  Trigault's  confidence.  "  You  have  been  slan- 
dered !  "  he  muttered. 

"  Abominably.  Last  Sunday  the  best  horse  in  my 
stables,  Domingo,  came  in  third.  He  was  the  favorite 
in  the  ring.  You  can  understand  the  rest.  I  have  been 
accused  of  manoeuvering  to  have  my  own  horse  beaten. 
People  have  declared  that  it  was  my  interest  he  should 
be  beaten,  and  that  I  had  an  understanding  with  my 
jockey  to  that  effect.  This  is  an  every-day  occurrence, 
I  know  very  well  ;  but,  as  regards  myself,  it  is  none  the 
less  an  infamous  lie  !  " 

"  Who  has  dared  to  circulate  such  a  report  ?  " 

"  Oh,  how  can  I  tell  ?  It  is  a  fact,  however,  that  the 
story  has  been  circulated  everywhere,  but  in  such  a 
cautious  manner  that  there  is  no  way  of  calling  the 
authors  to  account.  They  have  even  gone  so  far  as  to 
say  that  this  piece  of  knavery  brought  me  in  an 
enormous  sum,  and  that  I  used  Rochecotte's,  Kervau- 
lieu's,  and  Coralth's  names  in  betting  against  my  own 
horse." 

The  baron's  agitation  was  so  great  that  M.  de  Val- 
orsay  observed  it,  though  he  did  not  understand  the 


38      BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

cause.  Living  in  the  same  society  with  the  Baroness 
Trigault,  and  knowing  her  story,  he  thought  that 
Coralth's  name  might,  perhaps,  have  irritated  the  baron. 
"  And  so,"  he  quickly  continued,  "  don't  be  surprised 
if,  during  the  coming  week,  you  see  the  sale  of  my 
horses  announced." 

"  What  !  you  are  going  to  sell " 

"  All  my  horses — yes,  baron.  I  have  nineteen  ;  and 
it  will  be  very  strange  if  I  don't  get  eight  or  ten  thou- 
sand louis  for  the  lot.  Domingo  alone  is  worth  more 
than  forty  thousand  francs." 

To  talk  of  selling — of  realizing  something  you  pos- 
sess— rings  ominously  in  people's  ears.  The  person 
who  talks  of  selling  proclaims  his  need  of  money — 
and  often  his  approaching  ruin.  "  It  will  save  you  at 
least  a  hundred  and  fifty  or  sixty  thousand  francs  a 
year,"  observed  the  baron. 

"  Double  it  and  you  won't  come  up  to  the  mark. 
Ah  !  my  dear  baron,  you  have  yet  to  learn  that  there  is 
nothing  so  ruinous  as  a  racing  stable.  It's  worse  than 
gambling;  and  women,  in  comparison,  are  a  real  econ- 
omy. Ninette  costs  me  less  than  Domingo,  with  his 
jockey,  his  trainer,  and  his  grooms.  My  manager  de- 
clares that  the  twenty-three  thousand  francs  I  won  last 
year,  cost  me  at  least  fifty  thousand." 

Was  he  boasting,  or  was  he  speaking  the  truth? 
The  baron  was  engaged  in  a  rapid  calculation.  "  What 
does  Valorsay  spend  a  year?"  he  was  saying  to  him- 
self. "  Let  us  say  two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand 
francs  for  his  stable  ;  forty  thousand  francs  for  Ninette 
Simplon;  eighty  thousand  for  his  household  expenses, 
and  at  least  thirty  thousand  for  personal  matters,  trav- 
elling, and  play.  All  this  amounts  to  something  like 
four    hundred    and    thirty    thousand    francs    a    year. 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE      39 

Does  his  income  equal  that  sum?  Certainly  not.  Then 
he  must  have  been  living  on  the  principal — he  is 
ruined." 

Meanwhile  the  marquis  gayly  continued  :  "  You  see, 
I'm  going  to  make  a  change  in  my  mode  of  life.  Ah  ! 
it  surprises  you!  But  one  must  make  an  end  of  it, 
sooner  or  later.  I  begin  to  find  a  bachelor  life  not  so 
very  pleasant  after  all  ;  there  is  rheumatism  in  prospect, 
and  my  digestion  is  becoming  impaired — in  short,  I 
feel  that  it  is  time  for  marriage,  baron;  and — I  am 
about  to  marry." 

"  You  !  " 

"Yes,  I.  What,  haven't  you  heard  of  it,  yet?  It 
has  been  talked  of  at  the  club  for  three  days  or  more." 

"  No,  this  is  the  first  intimation  I  have  received  of 
it.  It  is  true,  however,  that  I  have  not  been  to  the 
club  for  three  days.  I  have  made  a  wager  with  Kami- 
Bey,  you  know — that  rich  Turk — and  as  our  sittings 
are  eight  or  ten  hours  long,  we  play  in  his  apartments 
at  the  Grand  Hôtel.  And  so  you  are  to  be  married,"  the 
baron  continued,  after  a  slight  pause.  "  Ah,  well  !  I 
know  one  person  who  won't  be  pleased." 

"Who,  pray?" 

"Ninette  Simplon." 

M.  de  Valorsay  laughed  heartily.  "  As  if  that  would 
make  any  difference  to  me  !  "  he  exclaimed.  And  then 
in  a  most  confidential  manner  he  resumed  :  "  She  will 
soon  be  consoled.  Ninette  Simplon  is  a  shrewd  girl — 
a  girl  whom  I  have  always  suspected  of  having  an 
account  book  in  place  of  a  heart.  I  know  she  has  at 
least  three  hundred  thousand  francs  safely  invested; 
her  furniture  and  diamonds  are  worth  as  much  more. 
Why  should  she  regret  me?  Add  to  this  that  I  have 
promised  her  fifty  thousand  francs  to  dry  her  tears  with 


40      BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

on  my  wedding-day,  and  you  will  understand  that  she 
really  longs  to  see  me  married." 

"  I  understand,"  replied  the  baron  ;  "  Ninette  Sim- 
plon  won't  trouble  you.  But  I  can't  understand  why 
you  should  talk  of  economy  on  the  eve  of  a  marriage 
which  will  no  doubt  double  your  fortune;  for  I'm  sure 
you  won't  surrender  your  liberty  without  good  and  sub- 
stantial reasons." 

"  You  are  mistaken." 

"  How  mistaken  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  won't  hesitate  to  confess  to  you,  my  dear 
baron,  that  the  girl  I  am  about  to  marry  hasn't  a  penny 
of  her  own.  My  future  wife  has  no  dowry  save  her 
black  eyes — but  they  are  certainly  superb  ones." 

This  assertion  seemed  to  disprove  Pascal's  state- 
ments. "  Can  it  really  be  you  who  are  talking  in  this 
strain?"  cried  the  baron.  "You,  a  practical,  worldly 
man,  give  way  to  such  a  burst  of  sentiment?  " 

"  Well,  yes." 

The  baron  opened  his  eyes  in  astonishment.  "  Ah  ! 
then  you  adore  your  future  bride  !  " 

"  Adore  only  feebly  expresses  my  feelings." 

"  I  must  be  dreaming." 

Valorsay  shrugged  his  shoulders  with  the  air  of  a 
man  who  has  made  up  his  mind  to  accept  the  banter 
of  his  friends  ;  and  in  a  tone  of  mingled  sentimentality 
and  irony,  he  said  :  "  I  know  that  it's  absurd,  and  that 
I  shall  be  the  laughing-stock  of  my  acquaintances.  Still 
it  doesn't  matter;  I  have  never  been  coward  enough  to 
hide  my  feelings.  I'm  in  love,  my  dear  baron,  as  madly 
in  love  as  a  young  collegian — sufficiently  in  love  to 
watch  my  lady's  house  at  night  even  when  I  have  no 
possible  hope  of  seeing  her.  I  thought  myself  blase,  I 
boasted  of  being  invulnerable.    Well,  one  fine  morning 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE      41 

I  woke  up  with  the  heart  of  a  youth  of  twenty  beating 
in  my  breast — a  heart  which  trembled  at  the  slightest 
glance  from  the  girl  I  love,  and  sent  purple  flushes  to 
my  face.  Naturally  I  tried  to  reason  with  myself.  I 
was  ashamed  of  my  weakness;  but  the  more  clearly  I 
showed  myself  my  folly,  the  more  obstinate  my  heart 
became.  And  perhaps  my  folly  is  not  such  a  great  one 
after  all.  Such  perfect  beauty  united  with  such  mod- 
esty, grace,  and  nobility  of  soul,  such  passion,  candor, 
and  talent,  cannot  be  met  twice  in  a  lifetime.  I  intend 
to  leave  Paris.  We  shall  first  of  all  go  to  Italy,  my 
wife  and  I.  After  a  while  we  shall  return  and  install 
ourselves  at  Valorsay,  like  two  turtle-doves.  Upon 
my  word,  my  imagination  paints  a  charming  picture 
of  the  calm  and  happy  life  we  shall  lead  there  !  I  don't 
deserve  such  good  fortune.  I  must  have  been  born 
under  a  lucky  star  !  " 

Had  he  been  less  engrossed  in  his  narrative,  he  would 
have  heard  the  sound  of  a  stifled  oath  in  the  adjoining 
room;  and  had  he  been  less  absorbed  in  the  part  he 
was  playing,  he  would  have  observed  a  cloud  on  his 
companion's  brow.  The  baron  was  a  keen  observer, 
and  he  had  detected  a  false  ring  in  this  appar- 
ently vehement  outburst  of  passion.  "  I  understand 
it  now,  my  dear  marquis,"  said  he  ;  "  you  have  met 
the  descendant  of  some  illustrious  but  impoverished 
family." 

"  You  are  wrong.  My  future  bride  has  no  other 
name  than  her  Christian  name  of  Marguerite." 

"  It  is  a  regular  romance  then  !  " 

"  You  are  quite  right  ;  it  is  a  romance.  Were  you 
acquainted  with  the  Count  de  Chalusse,  who  died  a  few 
days  ago  ?  " 

"  No  ;  but  I  have  often  heard  him  spoken  of." 


42      BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

"  Well,  it  is  his  daughter  whom  I  am  about  to  marry 
— his  illegitimate  daughter." 

The  baron  started.  "  Excuse  me,"  said  he;  "  M.  de 
Chalusse  was  immensely  rich,  and  he  was  a  bachelor. 
How  does  it  happen  then  that  his  daughter,  even 
though  she  be  his  illegitimate  child,  should  find  herself 
penniless?  " 

"  A  mere  chance — a  fatality.  M,  de  Chalusse  died 
very  suddenly;  he  had  no  time  to  make  a  will  or  to 
acknowledge  his  daughter." 

'*  But  why  had  he  not  taken  some  precautions  ?  " 

"  A  formal  recognition  of  his  daughter  was  attended 
by  too  many  difficulties,  and  even  dangers.  Mademoi- 
selle Marguerite  had  been  abandoned  by  her  mother 
when  only  five  or  six  months  old  ;  it  is  only  a  few  years 
since  M.  de  Chalusse,  after  a  thousand  vain  attempts, 
at  last  succeeded  in  finding  her." 

It  was  no  longer  on  Pascal's  account,  but  on  his  own, 
that  Baron  Trigault  listened  with  breathless  attention. 
"  How  very  strange,"  he  exclaimed,  in  default  of  some- 
thing better  to  say.     "  How  very  strange  !  " 

"  Isn't  it?    It  is  as  good  as  a  novel." 

"  Would  it  be — indiscreet " 

"To  inquire?  Certainly  not.  The  count  told  me  the 
whole  story,  without  entering  into  particulars — you  un- 
derstand. When  he  was  quite  young,  M.  de  Chalusse 
became  enamoured  of  a  charming  young  lady,  whose 
husband  had  gone  to  tempt  fortune  in  America.  Being 
an  honest  woman,  she  resisted  the  count's  advances  for 
awhile — a  very  little  while;  but  in  less  than  a  year 
after  her  husband's  departure,  she  gave  birth  to  a 
pretty  little  daughter.  Mademoiselle  Marguerite,  But 
then  why  had  the  husband  gone  to  America  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  faltered  the  baron  ;  "  why — why,  indeed  ?  " 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE      43 

"  Everything  was  progressing  finely,  when  M.  de 
Chaltisse  was  in  his  turn  obliged  to  start  for  Germany, 
having  been  informed  that  a  sister  of  his,  who  had  fled 
from  the  paternal  roof  with  nobody  knows  who,  had 
been  seen  there.  He  had  been  absent  some  four  months 
or  so,  when  one  morning  the  post  brought  him  a  letter 
from  his  pretty  mistress,  who  wrote  :  '  We  are  lost  ! 
My  husband  is  at  Marseilles  :  he  will  be  here  to-mor- 
row. Never  attempt  to  see  me  again.  Fear  everything 
from  him.  Farewell.'  On  receiving  this  letter,  M.  de 
Chalusse  flung  himself  into  a  postchaise,  and  returned 
to  Paris.  He  was  determined,  absolutely  determined, 
to  have  his  daughter.  But  he  arrived  too  late.  On 
hearing  of  her  husband's  return,  the  young  wife  had 
lost  her  head.  She  had  but  one  thought — to  conceal  her 
fault,  at  any  cost;  and  one  night,  being  completely  dis- 
guised, she  left  her  child  on  a  doorstep  in  the  vicinity 
of  the  central  markets " 

The  marquis  suddenly  paused  in  his  story  to  ex- 
claim :  "  Why,  what  is  the  matter  with  you,  my  dear 
baron?  What  is  the  matter?  Are  you  ill?  Shall  I 
ring?" 

The  baron  was  as  pale  as  if  the  last  drop  of  blood 
had  been  drawn  from  his  veins,  and  there  were  dark 
purple  circles  about  his  eyes.  Still,  on  being  ques- 
tioned, he  managed  to  answer  in  a  choked  voice,  but 
not  without  a  terrible  effort  :  "  Nothing  !  It  is  nothing. 
A  mere  trifle  !  It  will  be  over  in  a  moment.  It  is 
over  !  "  Still  his  limbs  trembled  so  much  that  he 
could  not  stand,  and  he  sank  on  to  a  chair,  murmuring: 
"  I  entreat  you,  marquis — continue.  It  is  very  interest- 
ing— very  interesting  indeed." 

M.  de  Valorsay  resumed  his  narrative.  "  The  hus- 
band was  incontestably  an  artless  fellow;  but  he  was 


44      BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

also,  it  appears,  a  man  of  remarkable  energy  and  de- 
termination. Having  somehow  ascertained  that  his 
wife  had  given  birth  to  a  child  in  his  absence,  he  moved 
heaven  and  earth  not  only  to  discover  the  child,  but  its 
father  also.  He  had  sworn  to  kill  them  both  ;  and  he 
was  a  man  to  keep  his  vow  unmoved  by  a  thought  of 
the  guillotine.  And  if  you  require  a  proof  of  his 
strength  of  character,  here  it  is:  He  said  nothing  to 
his  wife  on  the  subject,  he  did  not  utter  a  single  re- 
proach; he  treated  her  exactly  as  he  had  done  before 
his  absence.  But  he  watched  her,  or  employed  others 
to  watch  her,  both  day  and  night,  convinced  that  she 
would  finally  commit  some  act  of  imprudence  which 
would  give  him  the  clue  he  wanted.  Fortunately,  she 
was  very  shrewd.  She  soon  discovered  that  her  hus- 
band knew  everything,  and  she  warned  M.  de  Cha- 
lusse,  thus  saving  his  life." 

It  is  not  at  all  remarkable  that  the  Marquis  de  Val- 
orsay  should  have  failed  to  see  any  connection  between 
his  narrative  and  the  baron's  agitation.  What  possible 
connection  could  there  be  between  opulent  Baron 
Trigault  and  the  poor  devil  who  went  to  seek  his  for- 
tune in  America?  What  imaginable  connection  could 
there  be  between  the  confirmed  gambler,  who  was 
Kami-Bey's  companion.  Lia  d'Argelès's  friend,  and  the 
husband  who  for  ten  long  years  had  pursued  the  man 
who,  by  seducing  his  wife,  had  robbed  him  of  all  the 
happiness  of  life?  Another  point  that  would  have  dis- 
pelled any  suspicions  on  the  marquis's  part  was  that 
he  had  found  the  baron  greatly  agitated  on  arriving, 
and  that  he  now  seemed  to  be  gradually  regaining  his 
composure.  So  he  continued  his  story  in  his  customary 
light,  mocking  tone.  It  is  the  perfection  of  good  taste 
and  high  breeding — "  proper  form,"  indeed,  not  to  be 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE      45 

astonished  or  moved  by  anything,  in  fact  to  sneer  at 
everything,  and  hold  one's  self  quite  above  the  emotions 
which  disturb  the  minds  of  plebeians. 

Thus  the  marquis  continued  :  "  I  am  necessarily  com- 
pelled to  omit  many  particulars,  my  dear  baron.  The 
count  was  not  very  explicit  when  he  reached  this  part 
of  his  story  ;  but,  in  spite  of  his  reticence,  I  learned  that 
he  had  been  tricked  in  his  turn,  that  certain  papers  had 
been  stolen  from  him,  and  that  he  had  been  defrauded 
in  many  ways  by  his  inafnorata.  I  also  know  that  M. 
de  Chalusse's  whole  life  was  haunted  by  the  thought 
of  the  husband  he  had  wronged.  He  felt  a  presenti- 
ment that  he  would  die  by  this  man's  hand.  He  saw 
danger  on  every  side.  If  he  went  out  alone  in  the 
evening,  which  was  an  exceedingly  rare  occurrence,  he 
turned  the  street  comers  with  infinite  caution  ;  it  seemed 
to  him  that  he  could  always  see  the  gleam  of  a  poniard 
or  a  pistol  in  the  shade,  I  should  never  have  believed 
in  this  constant  terror  on  the  part  of  a  really  brave 
man,  if  he  had  not  confessed  it  to  me  with  his  own 
lips.  Ten  or  twelve  years  passed  before  he  dared  to 
make  the  slightest  attempt  to  find  his  daughter,  so  much 
did  he  fear  to  arouse  his  enemy's  attention.  It  was  not 
until  he  had  discovered  that  the  husband  had  become 
discouraged  and  had  discontinued  his  search,  that  the 
count  began  his.  It  was  a  long  and  arduous  one,  but 
at  last  it  succeeded,  thanks  to  the  assistance  of  a  clever 
scoundrel  named  Fortunat." 

The  baron  with  difficulty  repressed  a  movement  of 
eager  curiosity,  and  remarked  :  "  What  a  peculiar 
name  !  " 

"  And  his  first  name  is  Isidore.  Ah  !  he's  a  smooth- 
tongued scoundrel,  a  rascal  of  the  most  dangerous  kind, 
who  richly  deserves  to  be  in  jail.    How  it  is  that  he  is 


46      BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

allowed  to  prosecute  his  dishonorable  calling  I  can't 
understand;  but  it  is  none  the  less  true  that  he  does 
follow  it,  and  without  the  slightest  attempt  at  conceal- 
ment, at  an  office  he  has  on  the  Place  de  la  Bourse." 

This  name  and  address  were  engraved  upon  the 
baron's  memory,  never  to  be  effaced. 

"  However,"  resumed  M.  de  Valorsay,  "  the  poor 
count  was  fated  to  have  no  peace.  The  husband  had 
scarcely  ceased  to  torment  him,  he  had  scarcely  begun 
to  breathe  freely,  when  the  wife  attacked  him  in  her 
turn.  She  must  have  been  one  of  those  vile  and  des- 
picable women  who  make  a  man  hate  the  entire  sex. 
Pretending  that  the  count  had  turned  her  from  the 
path  of  duty,  and  destroyed  her  life  and  happiness,  she 
lost  no  opportunity  of  tormenting  him.  She  would  not 
allow  M.  de  Chalusse  to  keep  the  child  with  him,  nor 
would  she  consent  to  his  adopting  the  girl.  She  de- 
clared it  an  act  of  imprudence,  which  would  surely  set 
her  husband  upon  the  track,  sooner  or  later.  And  when 
the  count  announced  his  intention  of  legally  adopting 
the  child,  in  spite  of  her  protests,  she  declared  that, 
rather  than  allow  it,  she  would  confess  everything  to 
her  husband." 

"  The  count  was  a  patient  man,"  sneered  the  baron. 
"  Not  so  patient  as  you  may  suppose.  His  submis- 
sion was  due  to  some  secret  cause  which  he  never 
confided  to  me.  There  must  have  been  some  great 
crime  under  all  this.  In  any  case,  the  poor  count  found 
it  impossible  to  escape  this  terrible  woman.  He  took 
refuge  at  Cannes;  but  she  followed  him.  He  travelled 
through  Italy,  for  I  don't  know  how  many  months 
under  an  assumed  name,  but  all  in  vain.  He  was  at 
last  compelled  to  conceal  his  daughter  in  some  provin- 
cial convent.     During-  the  last  few^  months  of  his  life 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE       47 

he  obtained  peace — that  is  to  say,  he  bought  it.  This 
lady's  husband  must  either  be  very  poor  or  exceedingly 
stingy;  and  as  she  was  exceedingly  fond  of  luxury, 
M.  de  Chalusse  effected  a  compromise  by  giving  her  a 
large  sum  monthly,  and  also  by  paying  her  dress- 
maker's bills." 

The  baron  sprang  to  his  feet  with  a  passionate  ex- 
clamation.    "  The  vile  wretch  !  "  he  said. 

But  he  quickly  reseated  himself,  and  the  exclamation 
astonished  M.  de  Valorsay  so  little  that  he  quietly  con- 
cluded by  saying:  "And  this  is  the  reason,  baron,  why 
my  beloved  Marguerite,  the  future  Marquise  de  Valor- 
say,  has  no  dowry." 

The  baron  cast  a  look  of  positive  anguish  at  the 
door  of  the  smoking-room.  He  had  heard  a  slight 
movement  there  ;  and  he  trembled  with  fear  lest  Pascal, 
maddened  with  anger  and  jealousy,  should  rush  in  and 
throw  himself  upon  the  marquis.  Plainly  enough,  this 
perilous  situation  could  not  last  much  longer.  The 
baron's  own  powers  of  self-control  and  dissimulation 
were  almost  exhausted,  and  so  postponing  until  another 
time  the  many  questions  he  still  wished  to  ask  M.  de 
Valorsay,  he  made  haste  to  check  these  confidential  dis- 
closures. "  Upon  my  word,"  he  exclaimed,  with  a 
forced  laugh,  "  I  was  expecting  sotnething  quite  dif- 
ferent. This  affair  begins  like  a  genuine  romance,  and 
ends,  as  everything  ends  nowadays,  in  money  !  " 


48      BARON   TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 


IV. 


As  a  millionaire  and  a  gambler,  Baron  Trigault  enjoyed 
all  sorts  of  privileges.  He  assumed  the  right  to  be  brutal, 
ill-bred,  cynical  and  bold;  to  be  one  of  those  persons 
who  declare  that  folks  must  take  them  as  they  find 
them.  But  his  rudeness  now  was  so  thoroughly  offen- 
sive that  under  any  other  circumstances  the  marquis 
would  have  resented  it.  However,  he  had  special  rea- 
sons for  preserving  his  temper,  so  he  decided  to  laugh. 

"  Yes,  these  stories  always  end  in  the  same  way, 
baron,"  said  he.  "  You  haven't  touched  a  card  this 
morning,  and  I  know  your  hands  are  itching.  Ex- 
cuse me  for  making  you  waste  precious  time,  as  you 
say;  but  what  you  have  just  heard  was  only  a  neces- 
sary preface." 

"Only  a  preface?" 

"  Yes  ;  but  don't  be  discouraged.  I  have  arrived  at 
the  object  of  my  visit  now." 

As  Baron  Trigault  was  supposed  to  enjoy  an  in- 
come of  at  least  eight  hundred  thousand  francs  a  year, 
he  received  in  the  course  of  a  twelvemonth  at  least  a 
million  applications  for  money  or  help,  and  for  this 
reason  he  had  not  an  equal  for  detecting  a  coming 
appeal.  "  Good  heavens  !  "  he  thought,  "  Valorsay  is 
going  to  ask  me  for  money."  In  fact,  he  felt  certain 
that  the  marquis's  pretended  carelessness  concealed 
real  embarrassment,  and  that  it  was  difficult  for  him  to 
find  the  words  he  wanted. 

"  So  I  am  about  to  marry,"  M.  de  Valorsay  resumed 
— "  I  wish  to  break  oflP  my  former  life,  to  turn  over 
a  new  leaf.     And   now  the  wedding  gifts,   the  two 


BARON   TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE      49 

fêtes  that  I  propose  giving,  the  repairs  at  Valorsay,  and 
the  honeymoon  with  my  wife — all  these  things  will  cost 
a  nice  little  sum." 

"  A  nice  little  sum,  indeed  !  " 

"  Ah,  well  !  as  I'm  not  going  to  wed  an  heiress,  I 
fear  I  shall  run  a  trifle  short.  The  matter  was  worry- 
ing me  a  little,  when  I  thought  of  you.  I  said  to 
myself  :  '  The  baron,  who  always  has  money  at  his 
disposal,  will  no  doubt  let  me  have  the  use  of  five 
thousand  louis  for  a  year.'  " 

The  baron's  eyes  were  fixed  upon  his  companion's 
face.  "  Zounds  !  "  he  exclaimed  in  a  half-grieved,  half- 
petulant  tone  ;  "  I  haven't  the  amount  !  " 

It  was  not  disappointment  that  showed  itself  on  the 
marquis's  face;  it  was  absolute  despair,  quickly  con- 
cealed. 

But  the  baron  had  detected  it;  and  he  realized  his 
applicant's  urgent  need.  He  felt  certain  that  M.  de 
Valorsay  was  financially  ruined — and  yet,  as  it  did  not 
suit  his  plans  to  refuse,  he  hastily  added  :  "  When  I  say 
I  haven't  that  amount,  I  mean  that  I  haven't  got  it  on 
hand  just  at  this  moment.  But  I  shall  have  it  within 
forty-eight  hours;  and  if  you  are  at  home  at  this  time 
on  the  day  after  to-morrow,  I  will  send  you  one 
of  my  agents,  who  will  arrange  the  matter  with 
you." 

A  moment  before,  the  marquis  had  allowed  his  con- 
sternation to  show  itself  ;  but  this  time  he  knew  how  to 
conceal  the  joy  that  filled  his  soul.  So  it  was  in  the 
most  indifferent  manner,  as  if  the  afïair  were  one  of 
trivial  importance,  that  he  thanked  the  baron  for  being 
so  obliging.  Plainly  enough,  he  now  longed  to  make 
his  escape,  and  indeed,  after  rattling  off  a  few  com- 
monplace remarks,  he  rose  to  his   feet  and  took  his 


50      BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

leave,  exclaiming:  "Till  the  clay  after  to-morrow, 
then  !  " 

The  baron  sank  into  an  arm-chair,  completely  over- 
come. A  martyr  to  a  passion  that  was  stronger  than 
reason  itself,  the  victim  of  a  fatal  love  which  he  had 
not  been  able  to  drive  from  his  heart,  Baron  Trigault 
had  passed  many  terrible  hours,  but  never  had  he  been 
so  completely  crushed  as  at  this  moment  when  chance 
revealed  the  secret  which  he  had  vainly  pursued  for 
years.  The  old  wounds  in  his  heart  opened  afresh, 
and  his  sufferings  were  poignant  beyond  description. 
All  his  efforts  to  save  this  woman  whom  he  at  once 
loved  and  hated  from  the  depths  of  degradation,  had 
proved  unavailing.  "  And  she  has  extorted  money 
from  the  Count  de  Chalusse,"  he  thought  ;  "  she  sold 
him  the  right  to  adopt  their  own  daughter."  And  so 
strange  are  the  workings  of  the  human  heart,  that  this 
circumstance,  trivial  in  comparison  with  many  others, 
drove  the  unfortunate  baron  almost  frantic  with  rage. 
What  did  it  avail  him  that  he  had  become  one  of  the 
richest  men  in  Paris?  He  allowed  his  wife  eight 
thousand  francs  a  month,  almost  one  hundred  thousand 
francs  a  year,  merely  for  her  dresses  and  fancies.  Not 
a  quarter-day  passed,  but  what  he  paid  her  debts  to  a 
large  amount,  and  in  spite  of  all  this,  she  had  sunk 
so  low  as  to  extort  money  from  a  man  who  had  once 
loved  her.  "  What  can  she  do  with  it  all  ?  "  muttered 
the  baron,  overcome  with  sorrow  and  indignation. 
"  How  can  she  succeed  in  spending  the  income  of  sev- 
eral millions  ?  " 

A  name,  the  name  of  Ferdinand  de  Coralth,  rose  to 
his  lips  ;  but  he  did  not  pronounce  it.  He  saw  Pascal 
emerging  from  the  smoking-room;  and  though  he  had 
forgotten  the  young  advocate's  very  existence,  his  ap- 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE      51 

pearance  now  restored  him  to  a  consciousness  of  real- 
ity. "Ah,  well!  M.  Ferailleur?"  he  said,  like  a  man 
suddenly  aroused  from  some  terrible  nightmare.  Pas- 
cal tried  to  make  some  reply,  but  he  was  unable  to  do 
so — such  a  flood  of  incoherent  thoughts  was  seething 
and  foaming  in  his  brain.  "  Did  you  hear,  M.  de  Val- 
orsay?"  continued  the  baron.  "Now  we  know,  be- 
yond the  possibility  of  doubt,  who  Mademoiselle  Mar- 
guerite's mother  is.  What  is  to  be  done  ?  What  would 
you  do  in  my  place?  " 

"Ah,  monsieur!  how  can  I  tell?" 

"  Wouldn't  your  first  thought  be  of  vengeance  !  It 
is  mine.  But  upon  whom  can  I  wreak  my  vengeance? 
Upon  the  Count  de  Chalusse?  He  is  dead.  Upon  my 
wife?  Yes,  I  might  do  so;  but  I  lack  the  courage — 
Mademoiselle  Marguerite  remains." 

"  But  she  is  innocent,  monsieur  ;  she  has  never 
wronged  you." 

The  baron  did  not  seem  to  hear  this  exclamation. 
"  And  to  make  Mademoiselle  Marguerite's  life  one  long 
misery,"  said  he,  "  I  need  only  favor  her  marriage  with 
the  marquis.  Ah,  he  would  make  her  cruelly  expiate 
the  crime  of  her  birth." 

"  But  you  won't  do  so  !  "  cried  Pascal,  in  a  trans- 
port ,  "  it  would  be  shameful  ;  I  won't  allow  it.  Never, 
I  swear  before  high  Heaven  !  never,  while  I  live,  shall 
Valorsay  marry  Marguerite.  He  may  perhaps  van- 
quish me  in  the  coming  struggle;  he  may  lead  her  to 
the  threshold  of  the  church,  but  there  he  will  find  me 
— armed — and  I  will  have  justice — human  justice  in 
default  of  legal  satisfaction.  And,  afterward,  the  law 
may  take  its  course  I  " 

The  baron  looked  at  him  with  deep  emotion.  "  Ah, 
you  know  what  it  is  to  love  !  "  he  exclaimed  ;  and  in  a 


52      BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

hollow  voice,  he  added  :  "  and  thus  it  was  that  I  loved 
Marguerite's  mother." 

The  breakfast-table  had  not  been  cleared,  and  a  large 
decanter  of  water  was  still  standing  on  it.  The  baron 
poured  out  two  large  glasses,  which  he  drained  with 
feverish  avidity,  and  then  he  began  to  walk  aimlessly 
about  the  room. 

Pascal  held  his  peace.  It  seemed  to  him  that  his  own 
destiny  was  being  decided  in  this  man's  mind,  that  his 
whole  future  depended  upon  the  determination  he  ar- 
rived at.  A  prisoner  awaiting  the  verdict  of  the  jury 
could  not  have  suffered  more  intense  anxiety.  At  last, 
when  a  minute,  which  seemed  a  century,  had  elapsed, 
the  baron  paused.  "  Now  as  before,  M.  Ferailleur,"  he 
said,  roughly,  "  I'm  for  you  and  with  you.  Give  me 
your  hand — that's  right.  Honest  people  ought  to  pro- 
tect and  assist  one  another  when  scoundrels  assail 
them.  We  will  reinstate  you  in  public  esteem,  mon- 
sieur. We  will  unmask  Coralth,  and  we  will  crush 
Valorsay  if  we  find  that  he  is  really  the  instigator  of 
the  infamous  plot  that  ruined  you." 

"What,  monsieur!  Can  you  doubt  it  after  your 
conversation  with  him  ?  " 

The  baron  shook  his  head.  "  I've  no  doubt  but  what 
Valorsay  is  ruined  financially,"  said  he.  "  I  am  certain 
that  my  hundred  thousand  francs  will  be  lost  forever 
if  I  lend  them  to  him.  I  would  be  willing  to  swear 
that  he  bet  against  his  own  horse  and  prevented  the 
animal  from  winning,  as  he  is  accused  of  doing." 

"  You  must  see,  then " 

"  Excuse  me — all  this  does  not  explain  the  great  dis- 
crepancy between  your  allegations  and  his  story.  You 
assure  me  that  he  cares  nothing  whatever  for  Made- 
moiselle Marguerite;  he  pretends  that  he  adores  her." 


BARON   TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE      53 

"  Yes,  monsieur,  yes — the  scoundrel  dared  to  say  so. 
Ah  !  if  I  had  not  been  deterred  by  a  fear  of  losing  my 
revenge  !  " 

"  I  understand  ;  but  allow  me  to  conclude.  Accord- 
ing to  you,  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  possesses  several 
millions.  According  to  him,  she  hasn't  a  penny  of  her 
own.  Which  is  right?  I  believe  he  is.  His  desire  to 
borrow  a  hundred  thousand  francs  of  me  proves  it; 
and,  besides,  he  wouldn't  have  come  this  morning  to 
tell  me  a  falsehood,  which  would  be  discovered  to- 
morrow. Still,  if  he  is  telling  the  truth,  it  is  impossi- 
ble to  explain  the  foul  conspiracy  you  have  suffered 
by." 

This  objection  had  previously  presented  itself  to 
Pascal's  mind,  and  he  had  found  an  explanation  which 
seemed  to  him  a  plausible  one.  "  M.  de  Chalusse  was 
not  dead,"  said  he,  "  when  M.  de  Coralth  and  M.  de 
.Valorsay  decided  on  this  plan  of  ridding  themselves  of 
me.  Consequently,  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  was  still 
an  heiress." 

"  That's  true  ;  but  the  very  day  after  the  commission 
of  the  crime,  the  accomplices  must  have  discovered  that 
it  could  do  them  no  good  ;  so,  why  have  they  still  per- 
sisted in  their  scheme  ?  " 

Pascal  tried  to  find  a  satisfactory  answer,  but  failed. 

"  There  must  be  some  iniquitous  mystery  in  this 
afifair,  which  neither  you  nor  I  suspect,"  remarked  the 
baron. 

"  That  is  exactly  what  my  mother  told  me." 

"  Ah  !  that's  Madame  Ferailleur's  opinion  ?  Then  it 
is  a  good  one.  Come,  let  us  reason  a  little.  Made- 
moiselle Marguerite  loved  you,  you  say?" 

"  Yes." 

"  And  she  has  suddenly  broken  off  the  engagement  ?" 


54      BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

"  She  wrote  to  me  that  the  Count  de  Chalusse  ex- 
torted from  her  a  promise  on  his  death-bed,  that  she 
would  marry  the  Marquis  de  Valorsay." 

The  baron  sprang  to  his  feet.  "  Stop,"  he  cried — 
"  stop  !  We  now  have  a  clue  to  the  truth,  perhaps. 
Ah  !  so  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  has  written  to  you 
that  M.  de  Chalusse  commanded  her  to  marry  the 
marquis  !  Then  the  count  must  have  been  fully  re- 
stored to  consciousness  before  he  breathed  his  last.  On 
the  other  hand,  Valorsay  pretends  that  Mademoiselle 
Marguerite  is  left  without  resources,  simply  because 
the  count  died  too  suddenly  to  be  able  to  write  or  to 
sign  a  couple  of  lines.  Can  you  reconcile  these  two 
versions  of  the  affair,  M.  Ferailleur?  Certainly  not. 
Then  which  version  is  false?  We  must  ascertain  that 
point.     When  shall  you  see  Mademoiselle  Marguerite 


agam 


"  She  has  requested  me  never  to  try  to  see  her 
again." 

"  Very  well  !  She  must  be  disobeyed.  You  must 
discover  some  way  of  seeing  her  without  anyone's 
knowledge.  She  is  undoubtedly  watched,  so  don't 
write  on  any  account."  He  reflected  for  a  moment, 
and  then  added  :  "  We  shall,  perhaps,  become  morally 
certain  of  Valorsay's  and  Coralth's  guilt,  but  there's  a 
wide  difference  between  this  and  the  establishment  of 
their  guilt  by  material  proofs.  Two  scoundrels  who 
league  to  ruin  an  honest  man  don't  sign  a  contract  to 
that  effect  before  a  notary.  Proofs  !  Ah  !  where  shall 
we  find  them?  We  must  gain  an  intimate  knowledge 
of  Valorsay's  private  life.  The  best  plan  would  be  to 
find  some  man  devoted  to  our  interests  who  would 
watch  him,  and  insinuate  himself  into  his  confidence." 

Pascal  interrupted  the  baron  with  an  eager  gesture. 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE      55 

Hope  glittered  in  his  eyes.  "  Yes  !  "  he  exclaimed, 
"  yes  ;  it  is  necessary  that  M.  de  Valorsay  should  be 
watched  by  a  man  of  quick  perception — a  man  clever 
enough  to  make  himself  useful  to  the  marquis,  and 
capable  of  rendering  him  an  important  service  in  case 
of  need.  I  will  be  the  man,  monsieur,  if  you  will 
allow  me.  The  thought  occurred  to  me  just  now  while 
I  was  listening  to  you.  You  promised  to  send  some 
one  to  Valorsay's  house  with  money.  I  entreat  you  to 
allow  me  to  take  the  place  of  the  man  you  intended  to 
send.  The  marquis  doesn't  know  me,  and  I  am  suffi- 
ciently sure  of  myself  to  promise  you  that  I  will  not 
betray  my  identity.  I  will  present  myself  as  your 
agent;  he  will  give  me  his  confidence.  I  shall  take 
him  money  or  fair  promises,  I  shall  be  well  received, 
and  I  have  a  plan " 

He  was  interrupted  by  a  rap  at  the  door.  The  next 
moment  a  footman  entered,  and  informed  his  master 
that  a  messenger  wished  to  speak  to  him  on  urgent 
business.     "  Let  him  come  in,"  said  the  baron. 

It  was  Job,  Madame  Lia  d'Argelès's  confidential  ser- 
vant, who  entered  the  room.  He  bowed  respectfully, 
and,  with  an  air  of  profound  mystery  exclaimed  :  "  I 
have  been  looking  for  the  baron  everywhere.  I  was 
ordered  by  madame  not  to  return  without  him." 

"  Very  well,"  said  M.  Trigault.  "  I  will  go  with 
you  at  once." 


56      BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 


V. 


How  was  it  that  a  clever  man  like  M.  Fortunat  made 
such  a  blunder  as  to  choose  a  Sunday,  and  a  racing 
Sunday  too,  to  call  on  M.  Wilkie.  His  anxiety  might 
explain  the  mistake,  but  it  did  not  justify  it.  He  felt 
certain,  that  under  any  other  circumstances  he  would 
not  have  been  dismissed  so  cavalierly.  He  would  at 
least  have  been  allowed  to  develop  his  proposals,  and 
then  who  knows  what  might  have  happened? 

But  the  races  had  interfered  with  his  plans.  M. 
Wilkie  had  been  compelled  to  attend  to  Pompier  de 
Nanterre,  that  famous  steeplechaser,  of  which  he  owned 
one-third  part,  and  he  had,  moreover,  to  give  orders 
to  the  jockey,  whose  lord  and  master  he  was  to  an 
equal  extent.  These  were  sacred  duties,  since  Wilkie's 
share  in  a  race-horse  constituted  his  only  claim  to  a 
footing  in  fashionable  society.  But  it  was  a  strong 
claim — a  claim  that  justified  the  display  of  whips  and 
spurs  that  decorated  his  apartments  in  the  Rue  du 
Helder,  and  allowed  him  to  aspire  to  the  character  of 
a  sporting  man.  Wilkie  really  imagined  that  folks 
were  waiting  for  him  at  Vincennes;  and  that  the  fete 
would  not  be  complete  without  his  presence. 

Still,  when  he  presented  himself  inside  the  enclosure, 
a  cigar  in  his  mouth,  and  his  racing  card  dangling  from 
his  button-hole,  he  was  obliged  to  confess  that  his 
entrance  did  not  create  much  of  a  sensation.  An  aston- 
ishing bit  of  news  had  imparted  unusual  excitement  to 
the  ring.  People  were  eagerly  discussing  the  Marquis 
de  Valorsay's  sudden  determination  to  pay  forfeit  and 
withdraw  his  horses  from  the  contest;  and  the  best 


BARON   TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE      57 

informed  declared  that  in  the  betting-rooms  the  evening 
before  he  had  openly  announced  his  intention  of  sell- 
ing his  racing  stable.  If  the  marquis  had  hoped  that 
by  adopting  this  course  he  would  silence  the  suspicions 
which  had  been  aroused,  he  was  doomed  to  grievous 
disappointment.  The  rumor  that  he  had  secretly  bet 
against  his  own  horse,  Domingo,  on  the  previous  Sun- 
day, and  that  he  had  given  orders  not  to  let  the  animal 
win  the  race,  was  steadily  gaining  credence. 

Large  sums  had  been  staked  on  Domingo's  success. 
He  had  been  the  favorite  in  the  betting  ring  and  the 
losers  were  by  no  means  pleased.  Some  declared  that 
they  had  seen  the  jockey  hold  Domingo  back;  and  they 
insisted  that  it  was  necessary  to  make  an  example,  and 
disqualify  both  the  marquis  and  his  jockey.  Still  one 
weighty  circumstance  pleaded  in  M.  de  Valorsay's 
favor — his  fortune,  or,  at  least,  the  fortune  he  was 
supposed  to  possess.  "  Why  should  such  a  rich  man 
stoop  to  cheat?  "  asked  his  defenders.  "  To  put  money 
into  one's  pocket  in  this  way  is  even  worse  than  to 
cheat  at  cards  !  Besides,  it's  impossible  !  Valorsay  is 
above  such  contemptible  charges.  He  is  a  perfect 
gentleman." 

"  Perhaps  so,"  replied  the  skeptical  bystanders.  "  But 
people  said  exactly  the  same  of  Croisenois,  of  the  Due 
de  H.,  and  Baron  P.,  who  were  finally  convicted  of  the 
same  rascality  that  Valorsay  is  accused  of." 

"  It's  an  infamous  slander  !  If  he  had  been  inclined 
to  cheat,  he  could  have  easily  diverted  suspicion.  He 
would  have  let  Domingo  come  in  second,  not  third  !  " 

"  If  he  were  not  guilty,  and  afraid  of  detection,  he 
wouldn't  pay  forfeit  to-day  nor  sell  his  horses." 

"  He  only  retires  from  the  turf  because  he's  going 
to  marry " 


58      BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

"  Nonsense  !  That's  no  reason  whatever." 
Like  all  gamblers,  the  frequenters  of  the  turf  are 
distrustful  and  inclined  to  be  quarrelsome.  No  one 
is  above  their  suspicions  when  they  lose  nor  above 
their  wrath  when  they  are  duped.  And  this  Domingo 
affair  united  all  the  losers  against  Valorsay  ;  they 
formed  a  little  battalion  of  enemies  who  were  no  doubt 
powerless  for  the  time  being,  but  who  were  ready  to 
take  a  startling  revenge  whenever  a  good  opportunity 
presented  itself.  Naturally  enough,  M.  Wilkie  sided 
with  the  marquis,  whom  he  had  heard  his  friend,  M. 
de  Coralth,  speak  of  on  several  occasions.  "  Accuse 
the  dear  marquis  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  It's  contemptible, 
outrageous.  Why,  only  last  evening  he  said  to  me, 
'  My  good  friend,  Domingo's  defeat  cost  me  two  thou- 
sand louis  !  '  "  M.  de  Valorsay  had  said  nothing  of  the 
kind,  for  the  very  good  reason  that  he  did  not  even 
know  Wilkie  by  sight  ;  still,  no  one  paid  much  heed  to 
the  assertion,  whereat  Wilkie  felt  vexed,  and  resolved 
to  turn  his  attention  to  his  jockey. 

The  latter  was  a  lazy,  worthless  fellow,  who  had  been 
dismissed  from  every  stable  he  had  previously  served 
in,  and  who  swindled  and  robbed  the  young  gentlemen 
who  employed  him  without  either  limit  or  shame.  Al- 
though he  made  them  pay  him  a  very  high  salary — 
something  like  eight  thousand  francs  a  year — on  the 
plea  that  it  was  most  repugnant  to  his  feelings  to  act 
as  a  groom,  trainer,  and  jockey  at  the  same  time,  he 
regularly  every  month  presented  them  with  fabulous 
bills  from  the  grain  merchant,  the  veterinary  surgeon, 
and  the  harness-maker.  In  addition,  he  regularly  sold 
Pompier's  oats  in  order  to  obtain  liquor,  and  in  fact  the 
poor  animal  was  so  nearly  starved  that  he  could 
scarcely  stand  on  his  legs.     The  jockey  ascribed  the 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE      59 

horse's  extreme  thinness  to  a  system  of  rigorous  train- 
ing; and  the  owners  did  not  question  the  statement  in 
the  least.  He  had  made  them  beHeve,  and  they  in 
turn  had  made  many  others  beHeve,  that  Pompier  de 
Nanterre  would  certainly  win  such  and  such  a  race; 
and,  trusting  in  this  fallacious  promise,  they  risked  their 
money  on  the  poor  animal — and  lost  it. 

In  point  of  fact,  this  jockey  would  have  been  the 
happiest  mortal  in  the  world  if  such  things  as  steeple- 
chases had  never  existed.  In  the  first  place,  he  judged, 
with  no  little  reason,  that  it  was  dangerous  to  leap 
hurdles  on  such  an  animal  as  Pompier;  and,  secondly, 
nothing  irritated  him  so  much  as  to  be  obliged  to 
promenade  with  his  three  employers  in  turn.  But  how 
could  he  refuse,  since  he  knew  that  if  these  young 
men  hired  him,  it  was  chiefly,  or  only  in  view  of,  dis- 
playing themselves  in  his  company.  It  afforded  them 
untold  satisfaction  to  walk  to  and  fro  along  the  course 
in  front  of  the  grand  stand,  with  their  jockey  in  his 
orange  jacket  with  green  sleeves.  They  were  firmly 
convinced  that  he  reflected  enormous  credit  upon  them, 
and  their  hearts  swelled  with  joy  at  the  thought  of  the 
envy  they  no  doubt  inspired.  This  conviction  gave  rise 
indeed  to  terrible  quarrels,  in  which  each  of  the  three 
owners  was  wont  to  accuse  the  others  of  monopolizing 
the  jockey. 

On  this  occasion,  M.  Wilkie — being  fortunate  enough 
to  arrive  the  first — immediately  repaired  to  Pompier  de 
Nanterre's  stall.  Never  had  circumstances  been  more 
favorable  for  a  display  of  the  animal's  speed.  The  day 
was  magnificent;  the  stands  were  crowded,  and  thou- 
sands of  eager  spectators  were  pushing  and  jostling 
one  another  beyond  the  ropes  which  limited  the  course. 
M.  Wilkie  seemed  to  be  everywhere;  he  showed  him- 


60      BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

self  in  a  dozen  different  places  at  once,  always  followed 
by  his  jockey,  whom  he  ordered  about  in  a  loud  voice, 
with  many  excited  gesticulations.  And  how  great  his 
delight  was  when,  as  he  passed  through  the  crowd,  he 
heard  people  exclaim  :  "  That  gentleman  has  a  racing 
stable.  His  horses  are  going  to  compete  !  "  What  bliss 
thrilled  his  heart  when  he  overheard  the  admiring  ex- 
clamation of  some  worthy  shopkeeper  who  was  greatly 
impressed  by  the  gay  silk  jacket  and  the  top-boots  ! 

But,  unfortunately,  this  happiness  could  not  last  for- 
ever. His  partners  arrived,  and  claimed  the  jockey  in 
their  turn.  So  M.  Wilkie  left  the  course  and  strolled 
about  among  the  carriages,  until  at  last  he  found  an 
equipage  which  was  occupied  by  the  young  ladies  who 
had  accepted  his  invitation  to  supper  the  evening  be- 
fore, and  who  were  now  making  a  profuse  display  of 
the  very  yellowest  hair  they  possessed.  This  afforded 
him  another  opportunity  of  attracting  public  attention, 
and  to  giving  proofs  of  his  "  form,"  for  he  had  not 
filled  the  box  of  his  carriage  with  champagne  for 
nothing.  At  last  the  decisive  moment  came,  and  he 
made  himself  conspicuous  by  shouting.  "  Now  !  Now  ! 
Here  he  is  !  Look  !  Bravo,  Pompier  !  One  hundred 
on  Pompier  !  " 

But,  alas  !  poor  Pompier  de  Nanterre  fell  exhausted 
before  half  the  distance  was  accomplished;  and  that 
evening  Wilkie  described  his  defeat,  with  a  profusion 
of  technical  terms  that  inspired  the  uninitiated  with  the 
deepest  awe.  "  What  a  disaster,  my  friends,"  he  ex- 
claimed. "  Pompier  de  Nanterre,  an  incomparable 
steeplechaser,  to  break  down  in  such  a  fashion  !  And 
beaten  by  whom  ?  My  Mustapha,  an  outsider,  without 
any  record  whatever!  The  ring  was  intensely  excited 
— and  I  was  simply  crazed." 


BARON   TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE      61 

However,  his  defeat  did  not  affect  him  very  deeply. 
It  was  forgotten  at  thought  of  the  inheritance  which 
his  friend  Coralth  had  spoken  to  him  about.  And  to- 
morrow M.  de  Coralth  would  tell  him  the  secret.  He 
had  only  twenty  hours  longer  to  wait  !  "  To-morrow  ! 
to-morrow  !  "  he  said  to  himself  again  and  again,  with 
a  thrill  of  mingled  joy  and  impatience.  And  what 
bright  visions  of  future  glory  haunted  him  !  He  saw 
himself  the  possessor  of  a  magnificent  stud,  of  suffi- 
cient wealth  to  gratify  every  fancy;  he  would  splash 
mud  upon  all  the  passers-by,  and  especially  upon  his 
former  acquaintances,  as  he  dashed  past  them  in  his 
superb  equipage;  the  best  tailor  should  invent  astonish- 
ing garments  for  him;  he  would  make  himself  con- 
spicuous at  all  the  first  performances  in  a  stage-box, 
with  the  most  notorious  women  in  Paris  ;  his  fetes 
would  be  described  in  the  papers  ;  he  would  be  the  con- 
tinual subject  of  comment;  he  would  be  credited  with 
splendid,  perfect  "  form." 

It  is  true  that  M.  de  Coralth  had  promised  him  all 
this,  without  a  word  of  explanation;  but  what  did  that 
matter?  Should  he  doubt  his  friend's  word?  Never! 
The  viscount  was  not  merely  his  model,  but  his  oracle 
as  well.  By  the  way  in  which  he  spoke  of  him,  it  might 
have  been  supposed  that  they  had  been  friends  from 
their  childhood,  or,  at  least,  that  they  had  known  each 
other  for  years.  Such  was  not  the  case,  however. 
Their  acquaintance  dated  only  seven  or  eight  months 
back,  and  their  first  meeting  had  apparently  been  the 
result  of  chance;  though  it  is  needless  to  say,  perhaps, 
that  this  chance  had  been  carefully  prepared  by  M.  de 
Coralth.  Having  discovered  Aladame  Lia  d'Argelès's 
secret,  the  viscount  watched  Wilkie,  ascertained  where 
he  spent  his  evenings,  contrived  a  way  of  introducing 


62      BARON   TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

himself  into  his  society,  and  on  their  third  meeting  was 
skilful  enough  to  render  him  a  service — in  other  words, 
to  lend  him  some  money.  From  that  moment  the  con- 
quest was  assured;  for  M.  de  Coralth  possessed  in  an 
eminent  degree  all  the  attributes  that  were  likely  to 
dazzle  and  charm  the  gifted  owner  of  Pompier  de 
Nanterre.  First  of  all,  there  was  his  title,  then  his 
impudent  assurance  and  his  apparent  wealth,  and  last, 
but  by  no  means  least,  his  numerous  and  fashionable 
acquaintances.  He  was  not  long  in  discovering  his 
advantage,  and  in  profiting  by  it.  And  without  giving 
M.  Wilkie  an  inkling  of  the  truth,  he  succeeded  in  ob- 
taining from  him  as  accurate  a  knowledge  of  his  past 
career  as  the  young  fellow  himself  possessed. 

M.  Wilkie  did  not  know  much  concerning  his  origin 
or  his  early  life;  and  his  history,  so  far  as  he  was 
acquainted  with  it,  could  be  told  in  a  few  words.  His 
earliest  recollection  was  of  the  ocean.  He  was  sure, 
perfectly  sure,  that  he  had  made  a  very  long  sea 
voyage  when  only  a  little  child,  and  he  looked  upon 
America  as  his  birthplace.  The  French  language  was 
certainly  not  the  first  he  had  learned,  for  he  still  re- 
membered a  limited  number  of  English  phrases.  The 
English  word  "  father  "  was  among  those  that  lingered 
in  his  memory  ;  and  now,  after  a  lapse  of  twenty  years, 
he  pronounced  it  without  the  least  foreign  accent.  But 
while  he  remembered  the  word  perfectly  well,  no  recol- 
lection remained  to  him  of  the  person  he  had  called  by 
that  name.  His  first  sensations  were  those  of  hunger, 
weariness,  and  cold.  He  recollected,  and  very  dis- 
tinctly too,  how  on  one  long  winter  night,  a  woman 
had  dragged  him  after  her  through  the  streets  of  Paris, 
in  an  icy  rain.  He  could  still  see  himself  as  he  wan- 
dered on,  crying  with  weariness,  and  begging  for  some- 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE      63 

thing  to  eat.  And  then  the  poor  woman  who  held  him 
by  the  hand  Hfted  him  in  her  arms  and  carried  him 
on — on,  until  her  own  strength  failed,  and  she  was 
obliged  to  set  him  on  the  ground  again.  A  vague  por- 
trait of  this  woman,  who  was  most  probably  his  mother, 
still  lingered  in  his  memory.  According  to  his  descrip- 
tion, she  was  extremely  handsome,  tall,  and  very  fair. 
He  had  been  particularly  impressed  with  the  pale  tint 
and  profusion,  of  her  beautiful  hair. 

Their  poverty  had  not  lasted  long.  He  remembered 
being  installed  with  his  mother  in  a  very  handsome 
suite  of  rooms.  A  man,  who  was  still  young,  and 
whom  he  called  "  Monsieur  Jacques,"  came  every  day, 
and  brought  him  sweetmeats  and  playthings.  He 
thought  he  must  have  been  about  four  years  old  at 
that  time.  However,  he  had  enjoyed  this  comfortable 
state  of  things  scarcely  a  month,  when  one  morning  a 
stranger  presented  himself.  The  visitor  held  a  long 
conference  with  his  mother,  or,  at  least,  with  the  per- 
son whom  he  called  by  that  name.  He  did  not  under- 
stand what  they  were  talking  about,  but  he  was  none 
the  less  very  uneasy.  The  result  of  the  interview  must 
have  justified  his  instinctive  fear,  for  his  mother  took 
him  on  her  lap,  and  embraced  him  with  convulsive  ten- 
derness. She  sobbed  violently,  and  repeated  again  and 
again  in  a  faltering  voice  :  "  Poor  child  !  my  beloved 
Wilkie  !  I  shall  never  kiss  you  again — never,  never  ! 
Alas  !    It  must  be  so  !    Give  me  courage,  my  God  !  " 

Those  were  the  exact  words  ;  Wilkie  was  sure  on 
that  point.  It  seemed  to  him  he  could  still  hear  that 
despairing  farewell.  For  it  was  indeed  a  farewell. 
The  stranger  took  him  in  his  arms  and  carried  him 
away,  in  spite  of  his  cries  and  struggles  to  escape.  This 
person  to  whose  care  he  was  confided  was  the  master 


64      BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

of  a  small  boarding-school,  and  his  wife  was  the  kindest 
and  most  patient  of  women.  However,  this  did  not 
prevent  Wilkie  from  crying  and  begging  for  his 
mother  at  first  ;  but  gradually  he  forgot  her.  He  was 
not  unhappy,  for  he  was  petted  and  indulged  more  than 
any  of  the  other  pupils,  and  he  spent  most  of  his  time 
playing  on  the  terrace  or  wandering  about  the  garden. 
But  this  charming  life  could  not  last  for  ever.  Accord- 
ing to  his  calculation,  he  was  just  ten  years  old  when, 
one  Sunday,  toward  the  end  of  October,  a  grave-look- 
ing, red-whiskered  gentleman,  clad  in  solemn  black  with 
a  white  necktie,  presented  himself  at  the  school,  and  de- 
clared that  he  had  been  instructed  by  Wilkie's  relatives 
to  place  him  in  a  college  to  continue  his  education. 

Young  Wilkie's  lamentations  were  long  and  loud; 
but  they  did  not  prevent  M.  Patterson — for  that  was 
the  gentleman's  name — from  taking  him  to  the  college 
of  Louis-the-Great,  where  he  was  entered  as  a  boarder. 
As  he  did  not  study,  and  as  he  was  only  endowed  with 
a  small  amount  of  intelligence,  he  learned  scarcely  any- 
thing during  the  years  he  remained  there.  Every  Sun- 
day and  every  fete  day,  M.  Patterson  made  his  appear- 
ance at  ten  o'clock  precisely,  took  Wilkie  for  a  walk 
in  Paris  or  the  environs,  gave  him  his  breakfast  and 
dinner  at  some  of  the  best  restaurants,  bought  every- 
thing he  expressed  a  desire  to  have,  and  at  nine  o'clock 
precisely  took  him  back  to  the  college  again.  During 
the  holidays  M.  Patterson  kept  the  boy  with  him,  re- 
fusing him  nothing  in  the  way  of  pleasure,  granting 
all  his  wishes,  but  never  losing  sight  of  him  for  a 
moment.  And  if  Wilkie  complained  of  this  constant 
watchfulness,  M.  Patterson  always  replied,  "  I  must 
obey  orders  ;  "  and  this  answer  invariably  put  an  end 
to  the  discussion. 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE      65 

So  things  went  on  until  it  became  time  for  Wilkie  to 
take  his  degree.  He  presented  himself  for  examina- 
tion ;  and,  of  course,  he  failed.  Fortunately,  however, 
M.  Patterson  was  not  at  a  loss  for  an  expedient.  He 
placed  his  charge  in  a  private  school;  and  the  follow- 
ing year,  at  a  cost  of  five  thousand  francs,  he  beguiled 
a  poor  devil  into  running  the  risk  of  three  years'  im- 
prisonment, by  assuming  M.  Wilkie's  name,  and  pass- 
ing the  examination  in  his  place.  In  possession  of  the 
precious  diploma  which  opens  the  door  of  every 
career,  M.  Wilkie  now  hoped  that  his  pockets  would 
be  filled,  and  that  he  would  then  be  set  at  liberty.  But 
the  hope  was  vain  !  M.  Patterson  placed  him  in  the 
hands  of  an  old  tutor  who  had  been  engaged  to  travel 
with  him  through  Europe;  and  as  this  tutor  held  the 
purse-strings,  Wilkie  was  obliged  to  follow  him  through 
German}^  England,  and  Italy. 

When  he  returned  to  Paris  he  was  just  twenty  years 
old,  and  the  very  next  day  M.  Patterson  conducted  him 
to  the  suite  of  rooms  which  he  still  occupied  in  the 
Rue  du  Helder.  "  You  are  now  in  your  own  home, 
M.  Wilkie,"  said  M.  Patterson  in  his  most  impressive 
manner.  "  You  are  now  old  enough  to  be  responsible 
for  your  own  actions,  and  I  hope  you  will  conduct  your- 
self like  an  honest  man.  From  this  moment  you  are 
your  own  master.  Those  who  gave  you  your  educa- 
tion desire  you  to  study  law.  If  I  were  in  your  place, 
I  should  obey  them.  If  you  wish  to  be  somebody,  and 
to  acquire  a  fortune,  work,  for  you  have  no  property, 
nor  anything  to  expect  from  any  one.  The  allowance 
which  is  granted  you,  a  far  too  liberal  one  in  my 
opinion,  may  be  cut  ofif  at  any  moment.  I  don't  think 
it  right  to  conceal  this  fact  from  you.  But  at  all  events 
until  then,  I  am  instructed  to  pay  you  five  thousand 


66      BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

francs  quarterly.  Here  is  the  amount  for  the  first 
quarter,  and  in  three  months'  time  I  shall  send  you  a 
similar  amount.  I  say  '  shall  send,'  because  my  busi- 
ness compels  me  to  return  to  England,  and  take  up 
my  abode  there.  Here  is  my  London  address;  and  if 
any  serious  trouble  befalls  you,  write  to  me.  Now,  my 
duty  being  fulfilled,  farewell." 

"  Go  to  the  devil,  you  old  preacher  !  "  growled 
Wilkie,  as  he  saw  the  door  close  on  the  retreating 
figure  of  M.  Patterson,  who  had  acted  as  his  guardian 
for  ten  years.  None  of  M.  Patterson's  wise  advice 
lingered  in  the  young  fellow's  mind.  To  use  a  familiar 
expression,  "  It  went  in  through  one  ear  and  came 
out  through  the  other."  Only  two  facts  had  made  an 
impression  upon  him  :  that  he  was  to  be  his  own  master 
henceforth,  and  that  he  had  a  fortune  at  his  command. 
There  it  lay  upon  the  table,  five  thousand  francs  in 
glittering  gold. 

If  M.  Wilkie  had  taken  the  trouble  to  attentively 
examine  the  rooms  which  had  suddenly  become  his 
own,  he  would  perhaps  have  recognized  the  fact  that 
a  loving  hand  had  prepared  them  for  his  reception. 
Countless  details  revealed  the  delicate  taste  of  a 
woman,  and  the  thoughtful  tenderness  of  a  mother. 
None  of  those  little  superfluities  which  delight  a  young 
man  had  been  forgotten.  There  was  a  box  of  choice 
cigars  upon  the  table,  and  a  jar  of  tobacco  on  the 
mantel-shelf.  But  Wilkie  did  not  take  time  to  discover 
this.  He  hastily  slipped  five  hundred  francs  into  his 
pocket,  locked  the  rest  of  his  money  in  a  drawer,  and 
went  out  with  as  lofty  an  air  as  if  all  Paris  belonged 
to  him,  or  as  if  he  had  enough  money  to  purchase  it. 

He  had  resolved  to  give  a  fête  in  honor  of  his  deliv- 
erance, and  so  he  hurried  off  in  search  of  some  of  his 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE      67 

old  college  chums.  He  found  two  of  them;  and,  al- 
though it  was  very  wounding  to  his  self-love,  M. 
Wilkie  was  obliged  to  confess  to  them  that  this  was 
his  first  taste  of  liberty,  and  that  he  scarcely  knew  what 
to  do  with  himself.  Of  course  his  friends  assured  him 
that  they  could  quickly  make  him  acquainted  with  the 
only  life  that  it  was  worth  while  living;  and,  to  prove 
it,  they  accepted  the  invitation  to  dinner  which  he  im- 
mediately offered  them.  It  was  a  remarkable  repast. 
Other  acquaintances  dropped  in,  the  wine  flowed  in 
rivers;  and  after  dinner  they  danced.  And  at  day- 
break, having  served  his  apprenticeship  at  baccarat,  M. 
Wilkie  found  himself  without  a  penny  in  his  pocket, 
and  face  to  face  with  a  bill  of  four  hundred  francs,  for 
which  amount  he  was  obliged  to  go  to  his  rooms,  under 
the  escort  of  one  of  the  waiters.  This  first  experiment 
ought  to  have  disgusted  him,  or  at  least  have  made  him 
reflect.  But  no.  He  felt  quite  in  his  element  in  the 
society  of  dissipated  young  men  and  enamelled  women. 
He  swore  that  he  would  win  a  place  in  their  midst,  and 
an  influential  place  too.  But  it  was  easier  to  form  this 
plan  than  to  carry  it  into  execution,  as  he  discovered 
when,  at  the  end  of  the  month,  he  counted  his  money 
to  see  what  remained  of  the  five  thousand  francs  that 
had  been  given  him  for  his  quarterly  allowance.  He 
had  just  three  hundred  francs  left. 

Twenty  thousand  francs  a  year  is  what  one  chooses 
to  make  it — wealth  or  poverty.  Twenty  thousand 
francs  a  year  represents  about  sixty  francs  a  day  ;  but 
what  are  sixty  francs  to  a  high  liver,  who  breakfasts 
and  dines  at  the  best  restaurants,  whose  clothes  are  de- 
signed by  an  illustrious  tailor,  who  declines  to  make  a 
pair  of  trousers  for  less  than  a  hundred  francs?  What 
are  three  louis  a  day  to  a  man  who  hires  a  box  for  first 


68      BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

performances  at  the  opera,  to  a  man  who  gambles  and 
gives  expensive  suppers,  to  a  man  who  drives  out  with 
yellow-haired  demoiselles,  and  who  owns  a  race-horse? 
Measuring  his  purse  and  his  ambition,  M.  Wilkie  dis- 
covered that  he  should  never  succeed  in  making  both 
ends  meet,  "  How  do  other  people  manage  ?  "  he  won- 
dered. A  puzzling  question  !  Every  evening  a  thou- 
sand gorgeously  apparelled  gentlemen,  with  a  cigar  in 
their  mouth  and  a  flower  in  their  button-hole,  may  be 
seen  promenading  between  the  Chaussée  d'Antin  and 
the  Faubourg  Montmartre.  Everybody  knows  them, 
and  they  know  everybody,  but  how  they  exist  is  a 
problem  which  it  is  impossible  to  solve.  How  do  they 
live,  and  what  do  they  live  on  ?  Everybody  knows  that 
they  have  no  property  ;  they  do  nothing,  and  yet  they 
are  reckless  in  their  expenditures,  and  rail  at  work  and 
jeer  at  economy.  What  source  do  they  derive  their 
money  from  ?    What  vile  business  are  they  engaged  in  ? 

However,  M.  Wilkie  did  not  devote  much  time  to 
solving  this  question.  "  My  relatives  must  wish  me  to 
starve,"  he  said  to  himself.  "  Not  I — I'm  not  that  sort 
of  a  person,  as  I'll  soon  let  them  know."  And  there- 
upon he  wrote  to  M.  Patterson.  By  return  of  post  that 
gentleman  sent  him  a  cheque  for  one  thousand  francs — 
a  mere  drop  in  the  bucket.  M.  Wilkie  felt  indignant 
and  so  he  wrote  again.  This  time  he  was  obliged  to 
wait  for  a  reply.  Still  at  last  it  came.  M.  Patterson 
sent  him  two  thousand  francs,  and  an  interminable 
epistle  full  of  reproaches.  The  interesting  young  man 
threw  the  letter  into  the  fire,  and  went  out  to  hire  a 
carriage  by  the  month  and  a  servant. 

From  that  day  forward,  his  life  was  spent  in  de- 
manding money  and  waiting  for  it.  He  employed  in 
quick  succession  every  pretext  that  could  soften  the 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE      69 

hearts  of  obdurate  relatives,  or  find  the  way  to  the  most 
closely  guarded  cash-box.  He  was  ill — he  had  con- 
tracted a  debt  of  honor — he  had  imprudently  lent  money 
to  an  unscrupulous  friend — he  was  about  to  be  arrested 
for  debt.  i\nd  in  accordance  with  the  favorable  or  un- 
favorable character  of  the  replies  his  manner  became 
humble  or  impertinent,  so  that  his  friends  soon  learned 
to  judge  very  accurately  of  the  condition  of  his  purse 
by  the  way  he  wore  his  mustaches.  He  became  wise 
with  experience,  however;  and  on  adding  all  the  sums 
he  had  received  together,  he  decided  that  his  family 
must  be  very  rich  to  allow  him  so  much  money.  And 
this  thought  made  him  anxious  to  fathom  the  mystery 
of  his  birth  and  his  infancy.  He  finally  persuaded  him- 
self that  he  was  the  son  of  a  great  English  nobleman — 
a  member  of  the  House  of  Lords,  who  was  twenty 
times  a  millionaire.  And  he  more  than  half  believed  it 
when  he  told  his  creditors  that  his  lordship,  his  father, 
would  some  day  or  other  come  to  Paris  and  pay  all 
his  debts.  Unfortunately  it  was  not  M.  Wilkie's  noble 
father  that  arrived,  but  a  letter  from  M.  Patterson, 
which  was  couched  as  follows  : 

"  My  Dear  Sir,  a  considerable  sum  was  placed  in 
my  hands  to  meet  your  unexpected  requirements  ;  and 
in  compliance  with  your  repeated  appeals,  I  have  re- 
mitted the  entire  amount  to  you.  Not  a  penny  remains 
in  my  possession — so  that  my  instructions  have  been 
fulfilled.  Spare  yourself  the  trouble  of  making  any 
fresh  demands  ;  they  will  meet  with  no  reply.  In  future 
you  will  not  receive  a  penny  above  your  allowance, 
which  in  my  opinion  is  already  too  large  a  one  for  a 
young  man  of  your  age." 

This  letter  proved  a  terrible  blow  to  Wilkie.  What 
should  he  do?     He  felt  that  M.  Patterson  would  not 


70      BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

revoke  his  decision  ;  and  indeed  he  wrote  him  several 
imploring  letters,  in  vain.  Yet  never  had  his  need  of 
money  been  so  urgent.  I  lis  creditors  were  becoming 
uneasy  ;  bills  actually  rained  in  upon  his  concierge  ;  his 
next  quarterly  allowance  was  not  due  for  some  time 
to  come,  and  it  was  only  through  the  pawnbroker  that 
he  could  obtain  money  for  his  more  pressing  require- 
ments. He  had  begun  to  consider  himself  ruined.  He 
saw  himself  reduced  to  dismissing  his  carriage,  to  sell- 
ing his  third  share  of  Pompier  de  Nanterre  and  losing 
the  esteem  of  all  his  witty  friends. 

He  was  in  the  depths  of  despair,  when  one  morning 
his  servant  woke  him  up  with  the  announcement  that 
the  Viscount  de  Coralth  was  in  the  sitting-room  and 
wished  to  speak  with  him  on  very  important  business. 
It  was  not  usually  an  easy  task  to  entice  M.  Wilkie 
from  his  bed^  but  the  name  his  servant  mentioned 
seemed  to  have  a  prodigious  efïect  upon  him.  He 
bounded  on  to  the  floor,  and  as  he  hastily  dressed  him- 
self, he  muttered  :  "  The  viscount  here,  at  this  hour  Î 
It's  astonishing  !  What  if  he's  going  to  fight  a  duel 
and  wishes  me  to  be  his  second?  That  would  be  a 
piece  of  grand  good  luck  and  no  mistake.  It  would 
assure  my  position  at  once.  Certainly  something  must 
have  happened  !  " 

This  last  remark  was  by  no  means  a  proof  of  any 
remarkable  perspicuity  on  M.  Wilkie's  part.  As  M. 
de  Coralth  never  went  to  bed  until  two  or  three  o'clock 
in  the  morning,  he  was  by  no  means  an  early  riser,  and 
only  some  very  powerful  reason  could  explain  the  pres- 
ence of  his  blue-lined  brougham  in  the  street  before 
nine  o'clock  a.m.  And  the  influence  that  had  made  him 
rise  betimes  in  the  present  case  had  indeed  been  ex- 
tremely powerful.    Although  the  brilliant  viscount  had 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE      71 

discovered  Madame  d'Argelès's  secret,  several  months 
previously,  he  had  so  far  disclosed  it  to  no  one.  It 
was  certainly  not  from  any  delicacy  of  feeling  that  he 
had  held  his  peace;  but  only  because  it  had  not  been 
for  his  interest  to  speak.  Now,  however,  the  sudden 
death  of  the  Count  de  Chalusse  changed  the  situation. 
He  heard  of  the  catastrophe  at  his  club  on  the  evening 
after  the  count's  death,  and  his  emotion  was  so  great 
that  he  actually  declined  to  take  part  in  a  game  of 
baccarat  that  was  just  beginning.  "  The  devil  !  "  he 
exclaimed.  "  Let  me  think  a  moment.  Madame  d'Ar- 
gelès  is  the  heiress  of  all  these  millions — will  she  come 
forward  and  claim  them?  From  what  I  know  of  her, 
I  am  inclined  to  think  that  she  won't.  Will  she  ever 
go  to  Wilkie  and  confess  that  she,  Lia  d'Argelès,  is  a 
Chalusse,  and  that  he  is  her  illegitimate  son  ?  Never  ! 
She  would  rather  relinquish  her  millions,  both  for  her- 
self and  for  him,  than  take  such  a  step.  She  is  so 
ridiculously  antiquated  in  her  notions."  And  then  he 
began  to  study  what  advantages  he  might  derive  from 
his  knowledge  of  the  situation. 

M.  de  Coralth,  like  all  persons  whose  present  is  more 
or  less  uncertain,  had  great  misgivings  concerning  his 
future.  Just  now  he  was  cunning  enough  to  find  a 
means  of  procuring  the  thirty  or  forty  thousand  francs 
a  year  that  were  indispensable  to  his  comfort;  but  he 
had  not  a  farthing  laid  by,  and  the  vein  of  silver  he 
was  now  working  might  fail  him  at  any  moment.  The 
slightest  indiscretion,  the  least  blunder,  might  hurl  him 
from  his  splendor  into  the  mire.  The  perspiration 
started  out  on  his  forehead  when  he  thought  of  his 
peril.  He  passionately  longed  for  a  more  assured  posi- 
tion— for  a  little  capital  that  would  insure  him  his 
bread  until  the  end  of  his  days,  and  rid  him  of  the  grim 


72      BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

phantom  of  poverty  forever.  And  it  was  this  desire 
which  ins])ircd  him  with  the  same  plan  that  M.  For- 
tunat  had  formed.  "  Why  shoulchi't  I  inform  Wilkie?  " 
he  said  to  himself.  "  If  I  present  him  with  a  fortune, 
the  simpleton  onc^ht  certainly  to  give  me  some  reward." 
But  to  carry  this  plan  into  execution  it  would  be  neces- 
sary to  brave  Madame  d'Argelès's  anger  ;  and  that  was 
attended  by  no  little  danger.  If  he  knew  something 
about  her,  she  on  her  side  knew  everything  connected 
with  his  past  life.  She  had  only  to  speak  to  ruin  him 
forever.  Still,  after  weighing  all  the  advantages  and 
all  the  dangers,  he  decided  to  act,  convinced  that 
Madame  d'Argelès  might  be  kept  ignorant  of  his  trea- 
son, providing  he  only  played  his  cards  skilfully.  And 
his  matutinal  visit  to  M.  Wilkie  was  caused  by  a  fear 
that  he  might  not  be  the  only  person  knowing  the  truth, 
and  that  some  one  else  might  forestall  him. 

"  You  here,  at  sunrise,  my  friend  !  "  exclaimed 
Wilkie,  as  he  entered  the  room  where  the  viscount  was 
seated.    "  What  has  happened?  " 

"To  me? — nothing,"  replied  the  viscount.  "It  was 
solely  on  your  account  that  I  deviated  from  my  usual 
habits." 

"  What  is  it?    You  frighten  me." 

"  Oh  !  don't  be  alarmed.  I  have  only  some  good 
news  to  communicate,"  and  in  a  careless  tone  which 
cleverly  concealed  his  anxiety,  the  viscount  added  :  "  P 
have  come,  my  dear  Wilkie,  to  ask  you  what  you  would 
be  willing  to  give  the  man  who  put  you  in  possession 
of  a  fortune  of  several  millions  ?  " 

M.  Wilkie's  face  turned  from  white  to  purple  at  least 
three  times  in  ten  seconds;  and  it  was  in  a  strangely 
altered  voice  that  he  replied  :  "  Ah  !  that's  good — very 
good — excellent  !  "     He  tried  his  best  to  laugh,  but  he 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE      73 

was  completely  overcome  ;  and,  in  fact,  he  had  cherished 
so  many  extravagant  hopes  that  nothing  seemed  im- 
possible to  him. 

"  Never  in  all  my  life  have  I  spoken  more  seriously," 
insisted  the  viscount. 

His  companion  at  first  made  no  reply.  It  was  easy 
to  divine  the  conflict  that  was  raging  in  his  mind, 
between  the  hope  that  the  news  was  true  and  the  fear 
of  being  made  the  victim  of  a  practical  joke.  "  Come, 
my  friend,"  he  said  at  last,  "  do  you  want  to  poke  fun 
at  me?  That  wouldn't  be  polite.  A  debtor  is  always 
sacred,  and  I  owe  you  twenty-five  louis.  This  is  scarce- 
ly the  time  to  talk  of  millions.  My  relatives  have  cut 
off  my  supplies;  and  my  creditors  are  overwhelming 
me  with  their  bills " 

But  M.  de  Coralth  checked  him,  saying  gravely  : 
"  Upon  my  honor,  I  am  not  jesting.  What  would  you 
give  a  man  who " 

"  I  would  give  him  half  of  the  fortune  he  gave  me." 

"  That's  too  much  !  " 

"  No,  no  !  " 

He  was  in  earnest,  certainly.  What  wouldn't  a  man 
promise  in  all  sincerity  of  soul  to  a  fellow  mortal  who 
gave  him  money  when  he  had  none — when  he  needed 
it  urgently  and  must  have  it  to  save  himself  from  ruin? 

At  such  a  moment  no  commission,  however  large, 
seems  exorbitant.  It  is  afterward,  when  the  day  of 
settlement  comes,  that  people  begin  to  find  fault  with 
the  rate  of  interest. 

"  If  I  tell  you  that  one-half  is  too  much,  it  is  because 
such  is  really  the  case.  And  I  am  the  best  judge  of 
the  matter,  since  I  am  the  man  who  can  put  you  in 
possession  of  this  enormous  fortune." 

M.  Wilkie  started  back  in  speechless  amazement. 


74      BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

"  This  astonishes  you  !  "  said  the  viscount  ;  "  and 
why,  pray?    Is  it  because  I  ask  for  a  commission?" 

"Oh!  notât  all!" 

"  It  is  not  perhaps  a  very  gentlemanly  proceeding, 
but  it  is  a  sensible  one.  Business  is  business.  In  the 
afternoon,  when  I  am  in  a  restaurant,  at  the  club,  or 
in  a  lady's  boudoir,  I  am  merely  the  viscount  and  the 
grand  seigneur.  All  money  questions  sicken  me.  I 
am  careless,  liberal,  and  obliging  to  a  fault.  But  in 
the  morning  I  am  simply  Coralth,  a  man  of  the  middle 
classes  who  doesn't  pay  his  bills  without  examining 
them,  and  who  watches  his  money,  because  he  doesn't 
wish  to  be  ruined  and  end  his  brilliant  career  as  a  com- 
mon soldier  in  some  foreign  legion." 

M.  Wilkie  did  not  allow  him  to  continue.  He  be- 
lieved, and  his  joy  was  wild — delirious.  "  Enough, 
enough  !  "  he  interrupted.  "  A  difficulty  between  us  ! 
Never  !  I  am  yours  without  reserve  !  Do  you  under- 
stand me?  How  much  must  you  have?  Do  you  wish 
for  it  all?" 

But  the  viscount  was  unmoved.  "  It  is  not  fitting 
that  I  should  fix  upon  the  indemnity  which  is  due  to 
me.  I  will  consult  a  man  of  business  ;  and  I  will  de- 
cide upon  this  point  on  the  day  after  to-morrow,  when 
I  shall  explain  everything  to  you." 

"  On  the  day  after  to-morrow  !  You  won't  leave  me 
in  suspense  for  forty-eight  hours  ?  " 

"  It  is  unavoidable.  I  have  still  some  important  in- 
formation to  procure.  I  lost  no  time  in  coming  to  you, 
so  that  I  might  put  you  on  your  guard.  If  any  scoun- 
drel comes  to  you  with  proposals,  be  extremely  care- 
ful. Some  agents,  when  they  obtain  a  hold  on  an 
estate,  leave  nothing  for  the  rightful  owner.  So  don't 
treat  with  any  one." 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE      75 

"  Oh,  no  !     You  may  rest  assured  I  won't." 

"  I  should  be  quieter  in  mind  if  I  had  your  promise 
in  writing." 

Without  a  word,  Wilkie  darted  to  a  table,  and  wrote 
a  short  contract  by  which  he  bound  himself  to  give  M. 
Ferdinand  de  Coralth  one-half  of  the  inheritance  which 
the  aforesaid  Coralth  might  prove  him  to  be  entitled 
to.  The  viscount  read  the  document,  placed  it  in  his 
pocket,  and  then  said,  as  he  took  up  his  hat  : 

"  Very  well.     I  will  see  you  again  on  Monday." 

But  M.  Wilkie's  doubts  were  beginning  to  return. 
"  Monday,  so  be  it  !  "  said  he  ;  "  but  swear  that  you  are 
not  deceiving  me." 

"  What,  do  you  still  doubt  me  ?  " 

M.  Wilkie  reflected  for  a  moment;  and  suddenly  a 
brilliant  inspiration  darted  through  his  brain.  "  If  you 
are  speaking  the  truth,  I  shall  soon  be  rich,"  said  he. 
"  But,  in  the  meantime,  life  is  hard.  I  haven't  a  penny, 
and  it  isn't  a  pleasant  situation.  I  have  a  horse  entered 
for  the  race  to-morrow,  Pompier  de  Nanterre.  You 
know  the  animal  very  well.  The  chances  are  enor- 
mously in  his  favor.  So,  if  it  wouldn't  inconvenience 
you  to  lend  me  fifty  louis " 

"  Certainly,"  interrupted  the  viscount,  cordially. 
"  Certainly  ;  with  the  greatest  pleasure." 

And  drawing  a  beautiful  little  notebook  from  his 
pocket  he  took  from  it  not  one,  but  two  bank-notes  of 
a  thousand  francs,  and  handed  them  to  M.  Wilkie, 
saying  :  "  Monsieur  believes  me  now,  does  he  not  ?  " 

As  will  be  readily  believed,  it  was  not  for  his  own 
pleasure  that  M.  de  Coralth  postponed  his  confidential 
disclosures  for  a  couple  of  days.  He  knew  Wilkie  per- 
fectly well,  and  felt  that  it  was  dangerous  to  let  him 
roam  about  Paris  with  half  of  an   important  secret. 


7e      BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

Postponement  generally  furnishes  fate  with  weapons 
against  oneself.  But  it  was  impossible  for  the  viscount 
to  act  otherwise.  He  had  not  seen  the  Marquis  de 
Valorsay  since  the  Count  de  Chalussc's  death  and  he 
dared  not  conclude  the  contract  with  Wilkie  before  he 
had  conferred  with  him,  for  he  was  completely  in  the 
marquis's  power.  At  the  least  suspicion  of  treason,  M. 
de  Valorsay  would  close  his  hand,  and  he,  Coralth, 
would  be  crushed  like  an  egg-shell.  It  was  to  the 
house  of  his  formidable  associate  that  he  repaired  on 
leaving  M.  Wilkie  ;  and  in  a  single  breath  he  told  the 
marquis  all  that  he  knew,  and  the  plans  that  he  had 
formed. 

M.  de  Valorsay's  astonishment  must  have  been  in- 
tense when  he  heard  that  Lia  d'Argelès  was  a  Chalusse, 
but  he  knew  how  to  maintain  his  composure.  He  lis- 
tened quietly,  and  when  the  viscount  had  completed  his 
story,  he  asked  :  "  Why  did  you  wait  so  long  before 
telling  me  all  this  ?  " 

"  I  didn't  see  how  it  could  interest  you  in  the  least." 

The  marquis  looked  at  him  keenly,  and  then  calmly 
said  :  "  In  other  words,  you  were  waiting  to  see  whether 
it  would  be  most  advantageous  to  you  to  be  with  me 
or  against  me." 

"  How  can  you  think " 

"  I  don't  think,  I'm  sure  of  it.  As  long  as  I  was 
strong  support  for  you,  you  were  devoted  to  me.  But 
now  I  am  tottering,  and  you  are  ready  to  betray  me." 

"  Excuse  me  !    The  step  I  am  about  to  take " 

"  What,  haven't  you  taken  it  already  ?  "  interrupted 
the  marquis,  quickly.  And  shrugging  his  shoulders,  he 
added  :  "  Observe  that  I  don't  reproach  you  in  the 
least.  Only  remember  this  :  we  survive  or  we  perish 
together." 


BARON   TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE      17 

By  the  angry  gleam  in  M.  de  Coralth'â  eyes,  the 
marquis  must  have  realized  that  his  companion  was  dis- 
posed to  rebel;  still  this  knowledge  did  not  seem  to 
disquiet  him,  for  it  was  in  the  same  icy  tone  that  he 
continued  :  "  Besides,  your  plans,  far  from  conflicting 
with  mine,  will  be  of  service  to  me.  Yes,  Madame 
d'Argelès  must  lay  claim  to  the  count's  estate.  If  she 
hesitates,  her  son  will  compel  her  to  urge  her  claims, 
will  he  not?" 

"  Oh,  you  may  rest  assured  of  that." 

"  And  when  he  becomes  rich,  will  you  be  able  to 
retain  your  influence  over  him  ?  " 

"  Rich  or  poor,  I  can  mould  him  like  wax." 

"  Very  good.  Marguerite  was  escaping  me,  but  I 
shall  soon  have  her  in  my  power.  I  have  a  plan. 
The  Fondèges  think  they  can  outwit  me,  but  we  shall 
soon  see  about  that."  The  viscount  was  watching  his 
companion  stealthily  ;  as  the  latter  perceived,  and  so 
in  a  tone  of  brusque  cordiality,  he  resumed  :  "'  Excuse 
me  for  not  keeping  you  to  breakfast,  but  I  must  go  out 
immediately — Baron  Trigault  is  waiting  for  me  at  his 
house.  Let  us  part  friends — an  revoir — and,  above  all, 
keep  me  well  posted  about  matters  in  general." 

M.  de  Coralth's  temper  was  already  somewhat  ruflîed 
when  he  entered  Valorsay's  house;  and  he  was  in  a 
furious  passion  when  he  left  it.  "  So  we  are  to  sur- 
vive or  perish  together,"  he  growled.  "  Thanks  for 
the  preference  you  display  for  my  society.  Is  it  my 
fault  that  the  fool  has  squandered  his  fortune?  I  fancy 
I've  had  enough  of  his  threats  and  airs." 

Still  his  wrath  was  not  so  violent  as  to  make  him  for- 
get his  own  interests.  He  at  once  went  to  inquire  if 
the  agreement  which  M.  Wilkie  had  just  signed  would 
be  binding.     The  lawyer  whom  he  consulted  replied 


78      BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

that,,  at  all  events,  a  reasonable  compensation  would 
most  probably  be  granted  by  the  courts,  in  case 
of  any  difficulty;  and  he  suggested  a  little  plan 
which  was  a  chef  d'cciivrc  in  its  way,  at  the  same 
time  advising  his  client  to  strike  the  iron  while  it 
was  hot. 

It  was  not  yet  noon,  and  the  viscount  determined  to 
act  upon  the  suggestion  at  once;  he  now  bitterly  re- 
gretted the  delay  he  had  specified.  "  I  must  find  Wilkie 
at  once,"  he  said  to  himself.  But  he  did  not  succeed  in 
meeting  him  until  the  evening,  when  he  found  him  at 
the  Café  Riche — and  in  what  a  condition  too  !  The 
two  bottles  of  wine  which  the  young  fool  had  drank  at 
dinner  had  gone  to  his  head,  and  he  was  enumerating, 
in  a  loud  voice,  the  desires  he  meant  to  gratify  as  soon 
as  he  came  into  possession  of  his  millions.  "  What  a 
brute  !  "  thought  the  enraged  viscount.  "  If  I  leave 
him  to  himself,  no  one  knows  what  foolish  thing  he 
may  do  or  say.  I  must  remain  with  him  until  he  be- 
comes sober  again." 

So  he  followed  him  to  the  theatre,  and  thence  to 
Brébant's,  where  he  was  sitting  feeling  terribly  bored, 
when  M.  Wilkie  conceived  the  unfortunate  idea  of  in- 
viting Victor  Chupin  to  come  up  and  take  some  re- 
freshment. The  scene  which  followed  greatly  alarmed 
the  viscount.  Who  could  this  young  man  be?  He  did 
not  remember  having  ever  seen  him  before,  and  yet  the 
young  scamp  was  evidently  well  acquainted  with  his 
past  life,  for  he  had  cast  the  name  of  Paul  in  his  face, 
as  a  deadly  insult.  Surely  this  was  enough  to  make  the 
viscount  shudder  !  How  did  it  happen  that  this  young 
man  had  been  just  on  the  spot  ready  to  pick  up  Wilkie's 
hat?  Was  it  mere  chance?  Certainly  not.  He  could 
not  believe  it.    Then  why  was  the  fellow  there?    Evi- 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE       79 

dently  to  watch  somebody.  And  whom?  Why,  him — 
Coralth — undoubtedly. 

In  going  through  life  as  he  had  done,  a  man  makes 
enemies  at  every  step  ;  and  he  had  an  imposing  number 
of  foes,  whom  he  only  held  in  check  by  his  unbounded 
impudence  and  his  renown  as  a  duellist.  Thus  it  was 
not  strange  if  some  one  had  set  a  snare  for  him  ;  it  was 
rather  a  miracle  that  he  had  not  fallen  into  one  before. 
The  dangers  that  threatened  him  were  so  formidable 
that  he  was  almost  tempted  to  relinquish  his  attack 
on  Madame  d'Argelès.  Was  it  prudent  to  incur  the 
risk  of  making  this  woman  an  enemy?  All  Sunday  he 
hesitated.  It  would  be  very  easy  to  get  out  of  the 
scrape.  He  could  concoct  some  story  for  Wilkie's 
benefit,  and  that  would  be  the  end  of  it.  But  on  the 
other  hand,  there  was  the  prospect  of  netting  at  least 
five  hundred  thousand  francs — a  fortune — a  com- 
petency, and  the  idea  was  too  tempting  to  be  re- 
linquished. 

So  on  Monday  morning,  at  about  ten  o'clock,  he  pre- 
sented himself  at  Wilkie's  house,  looking  pale  with 
anxiety,  and  far  more  solemn  in  manner  than  usual. 
"  Let  us  say  but  little,  and  that  to  the  point,"  he  re- 
marked on  entering.  "  The  secret  I  am  about  to  reveal 
to  you  will  make  you  rich;  but  it  might  ruin  me  if  it 
were  known  that  you  obtained  this  information  through 
me.  You  will  therefore  swear,  upon  your  honor  as  a 
gentleman,  never  to  betray  me,  under  any  circum- 
stances, or  for  any  reason." 

M.  Wilkie  extended  his  hand  and  solemnly  exclaimed  : 
"I  swear!" 

"  Very  well,  then.  Now  my  mind  is  at  rest.  It  is 
scarcely  necessary  for  me  to  add  that  if  you  break  your 
oath  you  are  a  dead  man.     You  know  me.    You  know 


80      BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

how  I  handle  a  sword  ;  and  don't  forget  it."  His  man- 
ner was  so  threatening  that  Wilkie  shuddered.  "  You 
will  certainly  be  questioned,"  continued  M.  de  Coralth  ; 
"  but  you  must  reply  that  you  received  the  information 
through  one  of  Mr.  Patterson's  friends.  Now  let  us 
sign  our  formal  contract  in  lieu  of  the  temporary  one 
you  gave  me  the  other  day." 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  Wilkie  signed  it  eagerly. 
Not  so  the  viscount;  he  read  the  document  through 
carefully,  before  appending  his  signature,  and  then  ex- 
claimed :  "  The  estate  that  belongs  to  you  is  that  of  the 
Count  de  Chalusse,  your  uncle.  He  leaves,  I  am  in- 
formed, at  least  eight  or  ten  millions  of  property." 

By  M.  Wilkie's  excited  gestures,  by  the  glitter  in  his 
eyes,  it  might  have  been  supposed  that  this  wonderful 
good  fortune  was  too  much  for  him,  and  that  he  was 
going  mad.  "  I  knew  that  I  belonged  to  a  noble  fam- 
ily," he  began.  "  The  Count  de  Chalusse  my  uncle  !  I 
shall  have  a  coronet  on  the  corner  of  my  visiting  cards." 

But  with  a  gesture  M.  de  Coralth  silenced  him. 
"  Wait  a  little  before  you  rejoice,"  said  he.  "  Yes,  your 
mother  is  the  sister  of  the  Count  de  Chalusse,  and  it 
is  through  her  that  you  are  an  heir  to  the  estate.  But — 
don't  grieve  too  much — there  are  similar  misfortunes  in 
many  of  our  most  distinguished  families — circum- 
stances— the  obstinacy  of  parents — a  love  more  power- 
ful than  reason "     The  viscount  paused,  certainly 

he  had  no  prejudices  ;  but  at  the  moment  of  telling  this 
interesting  young  man  who  his  mother  really  was,  he 
hesitated. 

"  Go  on,"  insisted  M.  Wilkie. 

"  Well — when  your  mother  was  a  young  girl,  about 
twenty,  she  fled  from  her  paternal  home  with  a  man 
she  loved.     Forsaken  afterward,  she  found  herself  in 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE      81 

the  depths  of  poverty.  She  was  obliged  to  live.  You 
were  starving.  So  she  changed  her  name,  and  now  she 
is  known  as  Lia  d'Argelès." 

M.  Wilkie  sprang  to  his  feet.  "  Lia  d'Argelès  !  "  he 
exclaimed.  Then,  with  a  burst  of  laughter,  he  added  : 
*'  Nevertheless,  I  think  it  a  piece  of  grand  good  luck  !  " 


VL 


"This  man  carries  away  your  secret;  you  are  lost." 
A  sinister  voice  whispered  these  words  in  Madame  Lia 
d'Argelès's  heart  when  M.  Isidore  Fortunat,  after  being 
rudely  dismissed,  closed  the  door  of  her  drawing-room 
behind  him.  This  man  had  addressed  her  by  the  ancient 
and  illustrious  name  of  Chalusse  which  she  had  not 
heard  for  twenty  years,  and  which  she  had  forbidden 
her  own  lips  to  pronounce.  This  man  knew  that  she. 
Lia  d'Argelès,  was  really  a  Durtal  de  Chalusse. 

This  frightful  certainty  overwhelmed  her.  It  is  true 
this  man  Fortunat  had  declared  that  his  visit  was  en- 
tirely disinterested.  He  had  pretended  that  his  regard 
for  the  Chalusse  family,  and  the  compassion  aroused 
in  his  heart  by  the  unfortunate  plight  of  Mademoiselle 
Marguerite,  were  the  only  motives  that  has  influenced 
him  in  taking  this  step.  However,  Madame  d'Argelès's 
experience  in  life  had  left  her  but  limited  faith  in  ap- 
parent or  pretended  disinterestedness.  This  is  a  prac- 
tical age;  chivalrous  sentiments  are  expensive — as  she 
had  learned  conclusively.  "If  the  man  came  here," 
she  murmured,  "  it  was  only  because  he  thought  he 
might  derive  some  benefit  from  the  prosecution  of  my 
claim  to  my  poor  brother's  estate.  In  refusing  to  listen 
to  his  entreaties,  I  have  deprived  him  of  this  expected 


82      BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

profit  and  so  I  have  made  him  my  enemy.  Ah  !  I  was 
fooHsh  to  send  him  away  like  that  !  I  ought  to  have 
pretended  to  hsten — I  ought  to  have  bound  him  by  all 
sorts  of  promises." 

She  suddenly  paused.  It  occurred  to  her  that  M. 
Fortunat  could  not  have  gone  very  far;  so  that,  if  she 
sent  for  him  to  come  back,  she  might  perhaps  be  able 
to  repair  her  blunder.  Without  losing  a  second,  she 
rushed  downstairs,  and  ordered  her  concierge  and  a 
servant  to  run  after  the  gentleman  who  had  just  left 
the  house,  and  ask  him  to  return  ;  to  tell  him  that  she 
had  reflected,  and  wished  to  speak  to  him  again.  They 
rushed  out  in  pursuit,  and  she  remained  in  the  court- 
yard, her  heart  heavy  with  anxiety.  Too  late  !  About 
a  quarter  of  an  hour  afterward  her  emissaries  returned. 
They  had  made  all  possible  haste  in  contrary  directions, 
but  they  had  seen  no  one  in  the  street  who  at  all  re- 
sembled the  person  they  were  looking  for.  They  had 
questioned  the  shopkeepers,  but  no  one  had  seen  him 
pass.  "  It  doesn't  matter,"  faltered  Madame  d'Argelès, 
in  a  tone  that  belied  her  words.  And,  anxious  to  escape 
the  evident  curiosity  of  her  servants,  she  hastened  back 
to  the  little  boudoir  where  she  usually  spent  her 
mornings. 

M.  Fortunat  had  left  his  card — that  is  to  say,  his 
address — and  it  would  have  been  an  easy  matter  to  send 
a  servant  to  his  house.  She  was  strongly  tempted  to 
do  so  ;  but  she  ultimately  decided  that  it  would  be  better 
to  wait — that  an  hour  more  or  less  would  make  but  little 
difference.  She  had  sent  her  trusty  servant,  Job,  for 
Baron  Trigault;  he  would  probably  return  with  the 
baron  at  any  moment;  and  the  baron  would  advise  her. 
He  would  know  at  once  what  was  the  best  course  for 
her  to  pursue.     And  so  she  waited  for  his  coming  in 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE      83 

breathless  anxiety;  and  the  more  she  reflected,  the 
more  imminent  her  peril  seemed,  for  she  realized  that 
M.  Fortunat  must  be  a  very  dangerous  and  cunning 
man.  He  had  set  a  trap  for  her,  and  she  had  allowed 
herself  to  be  caught.  Perhaps  he  had  only  suspected 
the  truth  when  he  presented  himself  at  the  house.  He 
had  suddenly  announced  the  death  of  the  Count  de' 
Chalusse;  she  had  betrayed  herself;  and  any  doubts 
he  might  have  entertained  were  dispelled.  "  If  I  had 
only  had  sufficient  presence  of  mind  to  deny  it,"  she 
murmured.  "  If  I  had  only  been  courageous  enough 
to  reply  that  I  knew  absolutely  nothing  about  the  per- 
son he  spoke  of.  Ah  !  then  he  would  have  gone  away 
convinced  that  he  was  mistaken." 

But  would  the  smooth-spoken  visitor  have  declared 
that  he  knew  everything,  if  he  had  not  really  penetrated 
the  mystery  of  her  life  ?  It  was  scarcely  probable.  He 
had  implored  her  to  accept  the  property,  if  not  for  her 
own  sake  at  least  for  the  sake  of  another.  And  when 
she  asked  him  whom  he  meant  he  had  answered, 
"  Mademoiselle  Marguerite,"  but  he  was  undoubtedly 
thinking  of  Wilkie.  So  this  man,  this  Isidore  For- 
tunat, knew  that  she  had  a  son.  Perhaps  he  was  even 
acquainted  with  him  personally.  In  his  anger  he  would 
very  likely  hasten  to  Wilkie's  rooms  and  tell  him  every- 
thing. This  thought  filled  the  wretched  woman's  heart 
with  despair.  What!  Had  she  not  yet  expiated  her 
fault?    Must  she  suffer  again? 

For  the  first  time  a  terrible  doubt  came  over  her. 
What  she  had  formerly  regarded  as  a  most  sublime 
effort  of  maternal  love,  was,  perhaps,  even  a  greater 
crime  than  the  first  she  had  committed.  She  had  given 
her  honor  as  the  price  of  her  son's  happiness  and  pros- 
perity.   Had  she  a  right  to  do  so?    Did  not  the  money 


84      BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

she  had  lavished  upon  him  contain  every  germ  of  cor- 
ruption, misfortune,  and  shame?  How  terrible  Wilkie's 
grief  and  rage  would  be  if  he  chanced  to  hear  the  truth  ! 

Alas  !  he  would  certainly  pay  no  heed  to  the  exten- 
uating circumstances  ;  he  would  close  his  ears  to  all 
attempts  at  justification.  He  would  be  pitiless.  He 
would  have  naught  but  hatred  and  scorn  to  bestow  upon 
a  mother  who  had  fallen  from  the  highest  rank  in 
society  down  to  everlasting  infamy.  She  fancied  she 
heard  him  saying  in  an  indignant  voice,  "  It  would  have 
been  better  to  have  allowed  me  to  die  of  starvation 
than  to  have  given  me  bread  purchased  at  such  a  price  ! 
Why  have  you  dishonored  me  by  your  ill-gotten  wealth  ? 
Fallen,  you  might  have  raised  yourself  by  honest  toil. 
You  ought  to  have  made  me  a  laborer,  and  not  a  spoiled 
idler,  incapable  of  earning  an  honest  livelihood.  As  the 
son  of  a  poor,  betrayed,  and  deserted  woman,  with 
whom  I  could  have  shared  my  scanty  earnings,  I  might 
have  looked  the  world  proudly  in  the  face.  But  where 
can  the  son  of  Lia  d'Argelès  hide  his  disgrace  after 
playing  the  gentleman  for  twenty  years  with  Lia  d'Ar- 
gelès's  money?"  Yes,  Wilkie  would  certainly  say  this 
if  he  ever  learned  the  truth  ;  and  he  would  learn  it — she 
felt  sure  of  it.  How  could  she  hope  to  keep  a  secret 
which  was  known  to  Baron  Trigault,  M.  Patterson,  the 
Viscount  de  Coralth,  and  M.  Fortunat — four  persons  ! 
She  had  confidence  in  the  first  two;  she  believed  she 
had  a  hold  on  the  third,  but  the  fourth — Fortunat  ! 

The  hours  went  by;  and  still  Job  did  not  return. 
What  was  the  meaning  of  this  delay  ?  Had  he  failed  to 
find  the  baron?  At  last  the  sound  of  carriage-wheels 
in  the  courtyard  made  her  start.  "  That's  Job  !  "  she 
said  to  herself.     "  He  brings  the  baron." 

Alas  !  no.    Job  returned  alone.    And  yet  the  honest 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE      85 

fellow  had  spared  neither  pains  nor  horseflesh.  He  had 
visited  every  place  where  there  was  the  least  probabil- 
ity of  finding  the  baron,  and  he  was  everywhere  told 
that  Baron  Trigault  had  not  been  seen  for  several 
days.  "  In  that  case,  you  ought  to  have  gone  to  his 
house.  Perhaps  he  is  there,"  remarked  Madame 
d'Argelès. 

"  Madame  knows  that  the  baron  is  never  at  home. 
I  did  go  there,  however,  but  in  vain." 

This  chanced  to  be  one  of  three  consecutive  days 
which  Baron  Trigault  had  spent  with  Kami-Bey,  the 
Turkish  ambassador.  It  had  been  agreed  between  them 
that  they  should  play  until  one  or  the  other  had  lost 
five  hundred  thousand  francs  ;  and,  in  order  to  prevent 
any  waste  of  "  precious  time,"  as  the  baron  was  wont 
to  remark,  they  neither  of  them  stirred  from  the  Grand 
Hôtel,  where  Kami-Bey  had  a  suite  of  rooms.  They 
ate  and  slept  there.  By  some  strange  chance,  Madame 
d'Argelès  had  not  heard  of  this  duel  with  bank-notes, 
although  nothing  else  was  talked  of  at  the  clubs  ;  indeed, 
the  Figaro  had  already  published  a  minute  description 
of  the  apartment  where  the  contest  was  going  on  ;  and 
every  evening  it  gave  the  results.  According  to  the 
latest  accounts,  the  baron  had  the  advantage;  he  had 
won  about  two  hundred  and  eighty  thousand  francs. 

"  I  only  returned  to  inform  madame  that  I  had  so 
far  been  unsuccessful,"  said  Job.  "  But  I  will  recom- 
mence the  search  at  once." 

"  That  is  unnecessary,"  replied  IMadame  d'Argelès. 
"  The  baron  will  undoubtedly  drop  in  this  evening,  after 
dinner,  as  usual." 

She  said  this,  and  tried  her  best  to  believe  it;  but  in 
her  secret  heart  she  felt  that  she  could  no  longer  de- 
pend upon  the  baron's  assistance.    "  I  wounded  him  this 


86      BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

morning,"  she  thought.  "  He  went  away  more  angry 
than  I  had  ever  seen  him  before.  He  is  incensed  with 
me;  and  who  knows  how  long  it  will  be  before  he 
comes  again  ?  " 

Still  she  waited,  with  feverish  anxiety,  listening 
breathlessly  to  every  sound  in  the  street,  and  trembling 
each  time  she  heard  or  fancied  she  heard  a  carriage  stop 
at  the  door.  However,  at  two  o'clock  in  the  morning 
the  baron  had  not  made  his  appearance.  "  It  is  too  late 
— he  won't  come  !  "  she  murmured. 

But  now  her  sufferings  were  less  intolerable,  for  ex- 
cess of  wretchedness  had  deadened  her  sensibility.  Utter 
prostration  paralyzed  her  energies  and  benumbed  her 
mind.  Ruin  seemed  so  inevitable  that  she  no  longer 
thought  of  avoiding  it  ;  she  awaited  it  with  that  blind 
resignation  displayed  by  Spanish  women,  who,  when 
they  hear  the  roll  of  thunder,  fall  upon  their  knees, 
convinced  that  lightning  is  about  to  strike  their  defence- 
less heads.  She  tottered  to  her  room,  flung  herself  on 
the  bed,  and  instantly  fell  asleep.  Yes,  she  slept  the 
heavy,  leaden  slumber  which  always  follows  a  great 
mental  crisis,  and  which  falls  like  God's  blessing  upon 
a  tortured  mind.  On  waking  up,  her  first  act  was  to 
ring  for  her  maid,  in  order  to  send  a  message  to  Job,  to 
go  out  again  in  search  of  the  baron.  But  the  faithful 
servant  had  divined  his  mistress's  wishes,  and  had  al- 
ready started  oiï  of  his  own  accord.  It  was  past  mid- 
day when  he  returned,  but  his  face  was  radiant  ;  and  it 
was  in  a  triumphant  voice  that  he  announced  :  "  Mon- 
sieur le  Baron  Trigault." 

Madame  d'Argelès  sprang  up,  and  greeted  the  baron 
with  a  joyful  exclamation.  "  Ah  !  how  kind  of  you  to 
come  !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  You  are  most  welcome.  If 
you  knew  how  anxiously  I  have  been  waiting  for  you  !  " 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    \'EXGEANCE       87 

He  made  no  reply.    "  If  you  knew,"  continued  Madame 
d'Argelès,  "  if  you  only  knew " 

But  she  paused,  for  in  spite  of  her  own  agitation,  she 
was  suddenly  struck  by  the  peculiar  expression  on  her 
visitor's  face.  He  was  standing  silent  and  motionless  in 
the  centre  of  the  room,  and  his  eyes  were  fixed  upon 
her  with  a  strange,  persistent  stare  in  which  she  could 
read  all  the  contradictory  feelings  which  were  battling 
for  mastery  in  his  mind — anger,  hatred,  pity,  and  for- 
giveness. Madame  d'Argelès  shuddered.  So  her  cup 
of  sorrow  was  not  yet  full.  A  new  misfortune  was 
about  to  fall  upon  her.  She  had  hoped  that  the  baron 
would  be  able  to  alleviate  her  wretchedness,  but  it 
seemed  as  if  he  were  fated  to  increase  it.  "  Why  do 
you  look  at  me  like  that  ?  "  she  asked,  anxiously.  "  What 
have  I  done?  " 

"  You,  my  poor  Lia — nothing  !  " 

"  Then — what  is  it  ?    Oh,  my  God  !  you  frighten  me." 

"  What  is  it  ?  Well,  I  am  going  to  tell  you,"  he  said, 
as  he  stepped  forward  and  took  her  hand  in  his  own. 
"  You  know  that  I  have  been  infamously  duped  and  de- 
ceived, that  the  happiness  of  my  life  has  been  destroyed 
by  a  scoundrel  who  tempted  the  wife  I  so  fondly  loved 
to  forget  her  duty,  and  trample  her  honor  under  foot. 
You  have  heard  my  vows  of  vengeance  if  I  ever  suc- 
ceeded in  discovering  him.  Ah,  well.  Lia,  I  have  dis- 
covered him.  The  man  who  stole  my  share  of  earthly 
happiness  was  the  Count  de  Chalusse,  your  brother." 

With  a  sudden  gesture  Madame  d'Argelès  freed  her 
hand  from  the  baron's  grasp,  and  recoiled  as  terrified, 
as  if  she  had  seen  a  spectre  rise  up  before  her.     Then 
with  her  hands  extended  as  if  to  ward  ofif  the  horrible 
apparition,  she  exclaimed  :  "  O,  my  God  !  " 

A  bitter  smile  curved  the  baron's  lips.     "  What  do 


88      BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEAXXE 

you  fear?  "  he  asked.  "  Isn't  your  brother  dead?  He 
has  defrauded  me  ahke  of  happiness  and  vengeance  !  " 

If  her  son's  hfe  had  depended  on  a  single  word, 
IMadame  d'x\rgelès  could  not  have  uttered  it.  She  knew 
what  mental  agony  had  urged  the  baron  to  a  sort  of 
moral  suicide,  and  led  him  to  contract  the  vice  in  which 
he  wasted  his  life  and  squandered,  or,  at  least  risk,  his 
millions. 

"  Nor  is  this  all,"  he  continued.  "  Listen.  As  I  have 
often  told  you,  I  was  sure  that  my  wife  became  a 
mother  in  my  absence.  I  sought  the  child  for  years, 
hoping  that  through  the  offspring  I  might  discover  the 
father.  Ah,  well  !  I've  found  what  I  sought,  at  last. 
The  child  is  now  a  beautiful  young  girl.  She  lives  at 
the  Hôtel  de  Chalusse  as  your  brother's  daughter.  She 
is  known  as  IMademoiselle  Marguerite." 

Madame  d'Argelès  listened,  leaning  against  the  wall 
for  support,  and  trembling  like  a  leaf.  Her  reason  was 
shaken  by  so  many  repeated  blows,  and  her  son,  her 
brother,  Marguerite,  Pascal  Ferailleur,  Coralth,  Valor- 
say — all  those  whom  she  loved  or  feared,  or  hated — 
rose  like  spectres  before  her  troubled  brain.  The  horror 
of  the  truth  exceeded  her  most  frightful  apprehensions. 
The  strangeness  of  the  reality  surpassed  every  flight  of 
fancy.  And,  moreover,  the  baron's  calmness  increased 
her  stupor.  She  so  often  had  heard  him  give  vent  to 
his  rage  and  despair  in  terrible  threats,  that  she  could 
not  believe  he  would  be  thus  resigned.  But  was  his 
calmness  real?  Was  it  not  a  mask,  would  not  his  fury 
suddenly  break  forth? 

However,  he  continued,  "  It  is  thus  that  destiny 
makes  us  its  sport — it  is  thus  that  it  laughs  at  our  plans. 
Do  you  remember,  Lia,  the  day  when  I  met  you  wan- 
dering through  the  streets  of  Paris — with  your  child  in 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE      89' 

your  arms — pale  and  half  dead  with  fatigue,  faint  for 
want  of  food,  homeless  and  penniless?  You  saw  no 
refuge  but  in  death,  as  you  have  since  told  me.  How 
could  I  imagine  when  I  rescued  you  that  I  was  saving 
my  greatest  enemy's  sister  from  suicide — the  sister  of 
the  man  whom  I  was  vainly  pursuing?  And  yet  this 
might  not  be  the  end,  if  I  chose  to  have  it  otherwise. 
The  count  is  dead,  but  I  can  still  return  him  disgrace 
for  disgrace.  He  dishonored  me.  What  prevents  me 
from  casting  ineffaceable  opprobrium  upon  the  great 
name  of  Chalusse,  of  which  he  was  so  proud?  He  se- 
duced my  wife.  To-day  I  can  tell  all  Paris  what  his 
sister  has  been  and  what  she  is  to-day." 

Ah  !  it  was  this — yes,  it  was  this  that  Madame  d'Ar- 
gelès  had  dreaded.  She  fell  upon  her  knees,  and,  with 
clasped  hands  she  entreated  :  "  Pity  ! — oh  !  have  pity — 
forgive  me  !  Have  mercy  !  Have  I  not  always  been  a 
faithful  and  devoted  friend  to  you?  Think  of  the  past 
you  have  just  invoked  !  Who  helped  you  then  to  bear 
your  intolerable  sufferings?  Don't  you  remember  the 
day  when  you,  yourself,  had  determined  to  die  by  your 
own  hand?  There  was  a  woman  who  persuaded  you 
to  abandon  the  thought  of  suicide.     It  was  I  !  " 

He  looked  at  her  for  a  moment  with  a  softer  ex- 
pression, tears  came  to  his  eyes,  and  rolled  down  his 
cheeks.  Then  suddenly  he  raised  her,  and  placed  her 
in  an  arm-chair,  exclaiming:  "  Ah  !  you  know  very  well 
that  I  shall  not  do  what  I  said.  Don't  you  know  me 
better  than  that  ?  Are  you  not  sure  of  my  affection,  are 
you  not  aware  that  you  are  sacred  in  my  eyes?"  He 
was  evidently  striving  hard  to  master  his  emotion.  "  Be- 
sides," he  added,  "  I  had  already  pardoned  before  com- 
ing here.  It  was  foolish  on  my  part,  perhaps,  and  for 
nothing  in  the  world  would  I  confess  it  to  my  acquaint- 


90      BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

ances,  but  it  is  none  the  less  true.  I  shall  have  my 
revenge  in  a  certain  fashion,  however.  I  need  only  hold 
my  peace,  and  the  daughter  of  M.  de  Chalusse  and 
Madame  Trigault  would  become  a  lost  woman.  Is  this 
not  so?  Very  well,  I  shall  offer  her  my  assistance.  It 
may,  or  may  not,  be  another  absurd  and  ridiculous  fancy 
added  to  the  many  I  have  been  guilty  of.  But  no 
matter.  I  have  promised.  And  why,  indeed,  should 
this  poor  girl  be  held  responsible  for  the  sins  of  her 
parents?  I — I  declare  myself  on  her  side  against  the 
world  !  " 

Madame  d'Argelès  rose,  her  face  radiant  with  joy 
and  hope.  "  Then  perhaps  we  are  saved  !  "  she  ex- 
claimed. "  Ah  !  I  knew  when  I  sent  for  you  that  I 
should  not  appeal  to  your  heart  in  vain  !  " 

She  took  hold  of  his  hand  as  if  to  raise  it  to  her  lips  ; 
but  he  gently  withdrew  it,  and  inquired,  with  an  air 
of  astonishment:  "  What  do  you  mean?  " 

"  That  I  have  been  cruelly  punished  for  not  wishing 
you  to  assist  that  unfortunate  man  who  was  dishonored 
here  the  other  evening." 

"Pascal  Ferailleur?" 

"  Yes,  he  is  innocent.  The  Viscount  de  Coralth  is 
a  scoundrel.  It  was  he  who  slipped  the  cards  which 
made  M.  Ferailleur  win,  into  the  pack,  and  he  did  it 
at  the  Marquis  de  Valorsay's  instigation." 

The  baron  looked  at  Madame  d'Argelès  with  pro- 
found amazement.  "  What  !  "  said  he  ;  "  you  knew  this 
and  you  allowed  it?  You  were  cruel  enough  to  remain 
silent  when  that  innocent  man  entreated  you  to  testify 
on  his  behalf  !  You  allowed  this  atrocious  crime  to  be 
executed  under  your  own  roof,  and  under  your  very 
eyes?  " 

"  I  was  then  ignorant  of  Mademoiselle  Marguerite's 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE      91 

existence.  I  did  not  know  that  the  young  man  was 
beloved  by  my  brother's  daughter — I  did  not  know — " 

The  baron  interrupted  her,  and  exclaimed,  indig- 
nantly :  "  Ah  !  what  does  that  matter  ?  It  was  none  the 
less  an  abominable  action." 

She  hung  her  head,  and  in  a  scarcely  audible  voice 
replied  :  "  I  was  not  free.  I  submitted  to  a  will  that 
was  stronger  than  my  own.  If  you  had  heard  M.  de 
Coralth's  threats  you  would  not  censure  me  so  severely. 
He  has  discovered  my  secret;  he  knows  Wilkie — I  am 
in  his  power.  Don't  frown — I  make  no  attempt  to  ex- 
cuse myself — I  am  only  explaining  the  position  in  which 
I  was  placed.  My  peril  is  imminent  ;  I  have  only  confi- 
dence in  you — you  alone  can  aid  me  ;  listen  !  " 

Thereupon  she  hastily  explained  M.  de  Coralth's 
position  respecting  herself,  what  she  had  been  able  to 
ascertain  concerning  the  Marquis  de  Valorsay's  plans, 
the  alarming  visit  she  had  received  from  M.  Fortunat, 
his  advice  and  insinuations,  the  dangers  she  appre- 
hended, and  her  firm  determination  to  deliver  Made- 
moiselle Marguerite  from  the  machinations  of  her 
enemies.  Madame  d'Argelès's  disclosures  formed,  as 
it  were,  a  sequel  to  the  confidential  revelations  of  Pas- 
cal Ferailleur,  and  the  involuntary  confession  of  the 
Marquis  de  Valorsay;  and  the  baron  could  no  longer 
doubt  the  existence  of  the  shameful  intrigue  which  had 
been  planned  in  view  of  obtaining  possession  of  the 
count's  millions.  And  if  he  did  not,  at  first,  understand 
the  motives,  he  at  least  began  to  discern  what  means 
had  been  employed.  He  now  understood  why  Valorsay 
persisted  in  his  plan  of  marrying  Mademoiselle  ]\Iar- 
guerite,  even  without  a  fortune.  "  The  wretch  knows 
through  Coralth  that  Madame  d'Argelès  is  a  Chalusse," 
he  said  to  himself  ;    "  and  when    Mademoiselle    Mar- 


92      BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

guérite  has  become  his  wife,  he  intends  to  obHge 
Madame  d'Argclès  to  accept  her  brother's  estate  and 
share  it  with  him." 

At  that  same  moment  Madame  d'Argelès  finished 
her  narrative.  "  And  now,  what  shall  I  do?  "  she  added. 

The  baron  was  stroking  his  chin,  as  was  his  usual 
habit  when  his  mind  was  deeply  exercised.  "  The  first 
thing  to  be  done,"  he  replied,  "  is  to  show  Coralth  in 
his  real  colors,  and  prove  M.  Ferailleur's  innocence.  It 
will  probably  cost  me  a  hundred  thousand  francs  to  do 
so,  but  I  shall  not  grudge  the  money.  I  should  prob- 
ably spend  as  much  or  even  more  in  play  next  summer  ; 
and  the  amount  had  better  be  spent  in  a  good  cause 
than  in  swelling  the  dividends  of  my  friend  Blanc,  at 
Baden." 

"  But  M.  de  Coralth  will  speak  out  as  soon  as  he  finds 
that  I  have  revealed  his  shameful  past." 

"  Let  him  speak." 

Madame  d'Argelès  shuddered.  "  Then  the  name  of 
Chalusse  will  be  disgraced,"  said  she;  "  and  Wilkie  will 
know  who  his  mother  is." 

"  No." 

"  But " 

"  Ah  !  allow  me  to  finish,  my  dear  friend.  I  have  my 
plan,  and  it  is  as  plain  as  daylight.  This  evening  you 
will  write  to  your  London  correspondent.  Request  M. 
Patterson  to  summon  your  son  to  England,  under  any 
pretext  whatever  ;  let  him  pretend  that  he  wishes  to  give 
him  some  money,  for  instance.  He  will  go  there,  of 
course,  and  then  we  wull  keep  him  there.  Coralth  cer- 
tainly won't  run  after  him,  and  we  shall  have  nothing 
more  to  fear  on  that  score." 

"  Great  heavens  !  "  murmured  Madame  d'Argelès, 
"  why  did  this  idea  never  occur  to  me  ?  " 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE      93 

The  baron  had  now  completely  recovered  his  com- 
posure. "  As  regards  yourself,"  said  he,  "  the  plan  you 
ought  to  adopt  is  still  more  simple.  What  is  your  furni- 
ture worth?  About  a  hundred  thousand  francs,  isn't 
it?  Very  well,  then.  You  will  sign  me  notes,  dated 
some  time  back,  to  the  amount  of  a  hundred  thousand 
francs.  On  the  day  these  notes  fall  due,  on  Monday, 
for  instance,  they  will  be  presented  for  payment.  You 
will  refuse  to  pay  them.  A  writ  will  be  served,  and  an 
attachment  placed  upon  your  furniture  ;  but  you  will 
offer  no  resistance.  I  don't  know  if  I  explain  my 
meaning  very  clearly." 

"  Oh,  very  clearly  !  " 

"  So  your  property  is  seized.  You  make  no  opposi- 
tion, and  next  week  we  shall  have  flaming  posters  on 
all  the  walls,  telling  Paris  that  the  furniture,  wardrobe, 
cashmeres,  laces,  and  diamonds  of  Madame  Lia  d'Ar- 
gelès  will  be  sold  without  reserve,  at  public  auction,  in 
the  Rue  Drouot,  with  the  view  of  satisfying  the  claims 
of  her  creditors.  You  can  imagine  the  sensation  this 
announcement  will  create.  I  can  see  your  friends  and 
the  frequenters  of  your  drawing-room  meeting  one  an- 
other in  the  street,  and  saying  :  '  Ah,  well  !  what's  this 
about  poor  d'Argelès  ?  '  '  Pshaw  ! — no  doubt  it's  a  vol- 
untary sale.'  '  Not  at  all  ;  she's  really  ruined.  Every- 
thing is  mortgaged  above  its  value.'  '  Indeed,  Pm  very 
sorry  to  hear  it.  She  was  a  good  creature.'  '  Oh,  ex- 
cellent; a  deal  of  amusement  could  be  found  at  her 

house, — only  between  you  and  me '  '  Well  ?  '  '  Well, 

she  was  no  longer  young.'  '  That's  true.  However, 
I  shall  attend  the  sale,  and  I  think  I  shall  bid.'  And, 
in  fact,  your  acquaintances  won't  fail  to  repair  to  the 
Hôtel  Drouot,  and  maybe  your  most  intimate  friends 
will  yield  to  their  generous  impulses  sufficiently  to  offer 


94      BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

twenty  sous    for  one  of    the    dainty  trifles  on    your 
étagères." 

Overcome  with  shame,  Madame  d'Argelès  hung  her 
head.  She  had  never  before  so  keenly  felt  the  disgrace 
of  her  situation.  She  had  never  so  clearly  realized  what 
a  deep  abyss  she  had  fallen  into.  And  this  crushing 
humiliation  came  from  whom?  From  the  only  friend 
she  possessed — from  the  man  who  was  her  only  hope, 
Baron  Trigault. 

And  what  made  it  all  the  more  frightful  was,  that 
he  did  not  seem  to  be  in  the  least  degree  conscious  of 
the  cruelty  of  his  words.  Indeed,  he  continued,  in  a 
tone  of  bitter  irony  :  "  Of  course,  you  will  have  an  ex- 
hibition before  the  sale,  and  you  will  see  all  the  dolls 
that  hairdressers,  milliners  and  fools  call  great  ladies, 
come  running  to  the  show.  They  will  come  to  see  how 
a  notorious  woman  lives,  and  to  ascertain  if  there  are 
any  good  bargains  to  be  had.  This  is  the  right  form. 
These  great  ladies  would  be  delighted  to  display  dia- 
monds purchased  at  the  sale  of  a  woman  of  the  demi 
monde.  Oh  !  don't  fear — your  exhibition  will  be  visited 
by  my  wife  and  daughter,  by  the  Viscountess  de  Bois 
d'Ardon,  by  Madame  de  Rochecote,  her  five  daughters, 
and  a  great  many  more.  Then  the  papers  will  take  up 
the  refrain  ;  they  will  give  an  account  of  your  financial 
difficulties,  and  tell  the  public  what  you  paid  for  your 
pictures." 

It  was  with  a  sort  of  terror-stricken  curiosity  that 
Madame  d'Argelès  watched  the  baron.  It  had  been 
many  years  since  she  had  seen  him  in  such  a  frame  of 
mind — since  she  had  heard  him  talk  in  such  a  cynical 
fashion.  "  I  am  ready  to  follow  your  advice,"  said  she, 
"but  afterward?" 

"  What,  don't  you  understand  the  object  I  have  in 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE      95 

view?  Afterward  you  will  disappear.  I  know  five  or 
six  journalists  ;  and  it  would  be  very  strange  if  I  could 
not  convince  one  of  them  that  you  had  died  upon  an 
hospital  pallet.  It  will  furnish  the  subject  of  a  touch- 
ing, and  what  is  better,  a  moral  article.  The  papers 
will  say,  '  Another  star  has  disappeared.  This  is  the 
miserable  end  of  all  the  poor  wretches  whose  passing 
luxury  scandalizes  honest  women.'  " 

"And  what  will  become  of  me?" 

"  A  respected  woman.  Lia.  You  will  go  to  England, 
install  yourself  in  some  pretty  cottage  near  London, 
and  create  a  new  identity  for  yourself.  The  proceeds 
of  your  sale  will  supply  your  wants  and  Wilkie's  for 
more  than  a  year.  Before  that  time  has  elapsed  you 
will  have  succeeded  in  accumulating  the  necessary 
proofs  of  your  identity,  and  then  you  can  assert  your 
claims  and  take  possession  of  your  brother's  estate." 

Madame  d'Argelès  sprang  to  her  feet.  "  Never  ! 
never  !  "  she  exclaimed,  vehemently. 

The  baron  evidently  thought  he  must  have  misunder- 
stood her.  "What  !  "  he  stammered  ;  "you  will  relinquish 
the  millions  that  are  legally  yours,  to  the  government?  " 

"  Yes — I  am  resolved — it  must  be  so." 

"  Will  you  sacrifice  your  son's  future  in  this  style?  " 

"  No,  it  isn't  in  my  power  to  do  that  ;  but  Wilkie  will 
do  so,  later,  on,  I'm  sure  of  it." 

"  But  this  is  simply  folly." 

A  feverish  agitation  had  now  succeeded  Madame 
d'Argelès's  torpor;  there  was  an  expression  of  scorn 
and  anger  on  her  rigid  features,  and  her  eyes,  usually 
so  dull  and  lifeless,  fairly  blazed.  "  It  is  not  folly," 
she  exclaimed,  "  but  vengeance  !  "  And  as  the  aston- 
ished baron  opened  his  lips  to  question  her  :  "  Let  me 
finish,"  she  said  imperiously,  "  and  then  you  shall  judge 


96      BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

me.  I  have  told  you  with  perfect  frankness  everything 
concerning  my  past  life,  save  this — this — that  I  am 
married,  Monsieur  le  Baron,  legally  married.  I  am 
bound  by  a  chain  that  nothing  can  break,  and  my  hus- 
band is  a  scoundrel.  You  would  be  frightened  if  you 
knew  half  the  extent  of  his  villainy.  Oh  !  do  not  shake 
your  head.  I  ought  not  to  be  suspected  of  exaggeration 
when  I  speak  in  this  style  of  a  man  whom  I  once  loved 
so  devotedly.  For  I  loved  him,  alas  ! — even  to  madness 
— loved  him  so  much  that  I  forgot  self,  family,  honor, 
and  all  the  most  sacred  duties.  I  loved  him  so  madly 
that  I  was  willing  to  follow  him,  while  his  hands  were 
still  wet  with  my  brother's  blood.  Ah!  chastisement 
could  not  fail  to  come,  and  it  was  terrible,  like  the  sin. 
This  man  for  whom  I  had  abandoned  everything — 
whom  I  had  made  my  idol — do  you  know  what  he  said 
to  me  the  third  day  after  my  flight  from  home?  *  You 
must  be  more  stupid  than  an  owl  to  have  forgotten  to 
take  your  jewels.'  Yes,  those  were  the  very  words  he 
said  to  me,  with  a  furious  air.  And  then  I  could  meas- 
ure the  depths  of  the  abyss  into  which  I  had  plunged. 
This  man,  with  whom  I  had  been  so  infatuated,  did  not 
love  me  at  all,  he  had  never  loved  me.  It  had  only 
been  cold  calculation  on  his  part.  He  had  devoted 
months  to  the  task  of  winning  my  heart,  just  as  he 
would  have  devoted  them  to  some  business  transaction. 
He  only  saw  in  me  the  fortune  that  I  was  to  inherit. 
Oh  !  he  didn't  conceal  it  from  me.  '  If  your  parents 
are  not  monsters,'  he  was  always  saying,  '  they  will 
finally  become  reconciled  to  our  marriage.  They  will 
give  you  a  handsome  fortune  and  we  will  divide  it.  I  will 
give  you  back  your  liberty,  and  then  we  can  each  of  us 
be  happy  in  our  own  way.'  It  was  for  this  reason  that 
he  wished  to  marry  me.    I  consented  on  account  of  my 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE      97 

unborn  child.  My  father  and  mother  had  died,  and  he 
hoped  to  prevail  upon  me  to  claim  my  share  of  the 
paternal  fortune.  As  for  claiming  it  himself,  he  dared 
not.  He  was  a  coward,  and  he  was  afraid  of  my 
brother.  But  I  took  a  solemn  oath  that  he  should  never 
have  a  farthing  of  the  wealth  he  coveted,  and  neither 
threats  nor  blozvs  could  compel  me  to  assert  my  claim. 
God  only  knows  how  much  I  had  suffered  from  his 
brutality  when  I  at  last  succeeded  in  making  my  escape 
with  Wilkie.  He  has  sought  us  everywhere  for  fifteen 
years,  but  he  has  not  yet  succeeded  in  finding  a  trace 
of  us.  Still  he  has  not  ceased  to  watch  my  brother.  I 
am  sure  of  that,  my  presentiments  never  deceive  me. 
So,  if  I  followed  your  advice — if  I  claimed  possession 
of  my  brother's  fortune — my  husband  would  instantly 
appear  with  our  marriage  contract  in  his  hands,  and 
demand  everything.  Shall  I  enrich  him?  No,  never, 
never  !  I  would  rather  die  of  want  !  I  would  rather 
see  Wilkie  die  of  starvation  before  my  very  eyes  !  " 

Madame  d'Argelès  spoke  in  that  tone  of  concentrated 
rage  which  betrays  years  of  repressed  passion  and  un- 
flinching resolution.  One  could  scarcely  hope  to  mod- 
ify her  views  even  by  the  wisest  and  most  practical 
advice.  The  baron  did  not  even  think  of  attempting  to 
do  so.  He  had  known  Madame  d'Argelès  for  years; 
he  had  seen  so  many  proofs  of  her  invincible  energy  and 
determination.  She  possessed  the  distinguishing  char- 
acteristic of  her  family  in  a  remarkable  degree — that 
proverbial  Chalusse  obstinacy  which  Madame  Vantras- 
son  had  alluded  to  in  her  conversation  with  M. 
Fortunat. 

She  was  silent  for  a  moment,  and  then,  in  a  firm 
tone  she  said  :  "  Still,  I  will  follow  your  advice  in  part, 
baron.     This  evening  I  will  write  to  M.  Patterson  and 


98      BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

request  him  to  send  for  Wilkie.  In  less  than  a  fort- 
night I  shall  have  sold  my  furniture  and  disappeared. 
I  shall  remain  poor.  My  fortune  is  not  so  large  as 
people  suppose.  No  matter.  My  son  is  a  man;  he 
must  learn  to  earn  his  own  living." 

"  My  banking  account  is  always  at  your  disposal, 
Lia." 

"  Thanks,  my  friend,  thanks  a  thousand  times  ;  but  it 
will  not  be  necessary  for  me  to  accept  your  kind  offer. 
When  Wilkie  was  a  child  I  did  not  refuse.  But  now  I 
would  dig  the  ground  with  my  own  hands,  rather  than 
give  him  a  louis  that  came  from  you.  You  think  me 
full  of  contradictions  !  Perhaps  I  am.  It  is  certain 
that  I  am  no  longer  what  I  was  yesterday.  This  trouble 
has  torn  away  the  bandage  that  covered  my  eyes.  I 
can  see  my  conduct  clearly  now,  and  I  condemn  it. 
I  sinned  for  my  son's  sake,  more  than  for  my  own. 
But  I  might  have  rehabilitated  myself  through  him, 
and  now  he  will  perhaps  be  dishonored  through  me." 
Her  breathing  came  short  and  hard,  and  it  was  in  a 
choked  voice  that  she  continued  :  "  Wilkie  shall  work 
for  me  and  for  himself.  If  he  is  strong,  he  will  save 
us.  If  he  is  weak — ah,  well  !  we  shall  perish.  But 
there  has  been  cowardice  and  shame  enough  !  It  shall 
never  be  said  that  I  sacrificed  the  honor  of  a  noble 
name  and  the  happiness  of  my  brother's  child  to  my 
son.     I  see  what  my  duty  is,  and  I  shall  do  it." 

The  baron  nodded  approvingly.  "  That's  no  doubt 
right,"  said  he.  "  Only  allow  me  to  tell  you  that  all 
is  not  lost  yet.  The  code  has  a  weapon  for  every  just 
cause.  Perhaps  there  will  be  a  way  for  you  to  obtain 
and  hold  your  fortune  independent  of  your  husband." 

"  Alas  !  I  made  inquiries  on  the  subject  years  ago, 
and  I  was  told  that  it  would  be  impossible.     Still,  you 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE      99 

might  investigate  the  matter.  I  have  confidence  in  you. 
I  know  that  you  would  not  advise  me  rashly  ; — but  don't 
delay.  The  worst  misfortune  would  be  less  intolerable 
than  this  suspense." 

"  I  will  lose  no  time.  M.  Ferailleur  is  a  very  clever 
lawyer,  I  am  told.     I  will  consult  hifn." 

"  And  what  shall  I  do  about  this  man  Fortunat,  who 
called  upon  me  ?  " 

The  baron  reflected  for  a  moment.  "  The  safest  thing 
would  be  to  take  no  action  whatever  at  present,"  he  re- 
plied. *'  If  he  has  any  evil  designs,  a  visit  or  a  letter 
from  you  would  only  hasten  them." 

By  the  way  Madame  d'Argelès  shook  her  head,  it 
was  easy  to  see  that  she  had  very  little  hope.  "  All  this 
will  end  badly,"  she  murmured. 

The  baron  shared  her  opinion,  but  he  did  not  think 
it  wise  or  kind  to  discourage  her.  "  Nonsense  !  "  he 
said  lightly,  "  luck  is  going  to  change  ;  it  is  always 
changing." 

Then  as  he  heard  the  clock  strike,  he  sprang  from 
his  arm-chair  in  dismay.  "  Two  o'clock,"  he  exclaimed, 
"  and  Kami-Bey  is  waiting  for  me.  I  certainly  haven't 
been  wasting  time  here,  but  I  ought  to  have  been  at 
the  Grand  Hôtel  at  noon.  Kami  is  quite  capable  of 
suspecting  a  man  of  any  knavery.  These  Turks  are 
strange  creatures.  It's  true  that  I  am  now  a  winner  to 
the  tune  of  two  hundred  and  eighty  thousand  francs." 
He  settled  his  hat  firmly  on  his  head,  and  opening  the 
door,  he  added  :  "  Good-by,  my  dear  madame,  I  will 
soon  see  you  again,  and  in  the  meantime  don't  deviate 
in  the  least  from  your  usual  habits.  Our  success  de- 
pends, in  a  great  measure,  upon  the  fancied  security  of 
our  enemies  !  " 

Madame  d'Argelès  considered  this  advice  so  sensible 


100    BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

that  half  an  hour  later  she  went  out  for  her  daily  drive 
in  the  Bois,  little  suspecting  that  M.  Fortunat's  spy, 
Victor  Chupin,  was  dogging  her  carriage.  It  was  most 
imprudent  on  her  part  to  have  gone  to  Wilkie's  house 
on  her  return.  She  incurred  such  a  risk  of  awakening 
suspicion  by  wandering  about  near  her  son's  home  that 
she  seldom  allowed  herself  that  pleasure,  but  sometimes 
her  anxiety  overpowered  her  reason.  So,  on  this  occa- 
sion, she  ordered  the  coachman  to  stop  near  the  Rue 
du  Helder,  and  she  reached  the  street  just  in  time  to 
betray  her  secret  to  Victor  Chupin,  and  receive  a  foul 
insult  from  M.  Wilkie.  The  latter's  cruel  words  stabbed 
her  to  the  heart,  and  yet  she  tried  to  construe  them  as 
mere  proofs  of  her  son's  honesty  of  feeling — as  proof 
of  his  scorn  for  the  depraved  creatures  who  haunt  the 
boulevards  each  evening.  But  though  her  energy  was 
indomitable,  her  physical  strength  was  not  equal  to  her 
will.  On  returning  home,  she  felt  so  ill  that  she  was 
obliged  to  go  to  bed.  She  shivered  with  cold,  and  yet 
the  blood  that  flowed  in  her  veins  seemed  to  her  like 
molten  lead.  The  physician  who  was  summoned  de- 
clared that  her  illness  was  a  mere  trifle,  but  prescribed 
rest  and  quiet.  And  as  he  was  a  very  discerning  man, 
he  added,  not  without  a  malicious  smile,  that  any  excess 
is  injurious — excess  of  pleasure  as  well  as  any  other. 
As  it  was  Sunday,  Madame  d'Argelès  was  able  to  obey 
the  physician,  and  so  she  closed  her  doors  against  every 
one,  the  baron  excepted.  Still,  fearing  that  this  seclu- 
sion might  seem  a  little  strange,  she  ordered  her  con- 
cierge to  tell  any  visitors  that  she  had  gone  into  the 
country,  and  would  not  return  until  her  usual  reception- 
day.  She  would  then  be  compelled  to  open  her  doors 
as  usual.  For  what  would  the  habitués  of  the  house, 
who  had  played  there  every  Monday  for  years,  say  if 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE     101 

they  found  the  doors  closed?  She  was  less  her  own 
mistress  than  an  actress — she  had  no  right  to  weep  or 
suffer  in  solitude. 

So,  at  about  seven  o'clock  on  Monday  evening,  al- 
though still  grievously  suffering  both  in  mind  and  body, 
she  arranged  herself  to  receive  her  guests.  From  among 
all  her  dresses,  she  chose  the  same  dark  robe  she  had 
worn  on  the  night  when  Pascal  Ferailleur  was  ruined 
at  her  house  ;  and  as  she  was  even  paler  than  usual,  she 
tried  to  conceal  the  fact  by  a  prodigal  use  of  rouge.  At 
ten  o'clock,  when  the  first  arrivals  entered  the  brilliantly 
lighted  rooms,  they  found  her  seated  as  usual  on  the 
sofa,  near  the  fire,  with  the  same  eternal,  unchangeable 
smile  upon  her  lips.  There  were  at  least  forty  persons 
in  the  room,  and  the  gambling  had  become  quite  ani- 
mated when  the  baron  entered.  Madame  d'Argelès 
read  in  his  eyes  that  he  was  the  bearer  of  good  news. 
"  Everything  is  going  on  well,"  he  whispered,  as  he 
shook  hands  with  her.  "  I  have  seen  M.  Ferailleur — 1 
wouldn't  give  ten  sous  for  Valorsay's  and  Coralth's 
chances." 

This  intelligence  revived  Madame  d'Argelès's  droop- 
ing spirits,  and  she  received  M.  de  Coralth  with  perfect 
composure  when  he  came  to  pay  his  respects  to  her  soon 
afterward.  For  he  had  the  impudence  to  come,  in  order 
to  dispel  any  suspicions  that  might  have  been  aroused 
anent  his  complicity  in  the  card-cheating  affair.  The 
hostess's  calmness  amazed  him.  Was  she  still  ignorant 
of  her  brother's  death  and  the  complications  arising 
from  it,  or  was  she  only  acting  a  part?  He  was  so 
anxious  and  undecided,  that  instead  of  mingling  with 
the  groups  of  talkers,  he  at  once  took  a  seat  at  the 
card-table,  whence  he  could  watch  the  poor  woman's 
every  movement. 


102    BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

Both  rooms  were  full,  and  almost  everybody  was  en- 
gaged in  play,  when,  shortly  after  midnight,  a  servant 
entered  the  room,  whispered  a  few  words  in  his  mis- 
tress's ear,  and  handed  her  a  card.  She  took  it,  glanced 
at  it,  and  uttered  so  harsh,  so  terrible,  so  heart-broken 
a  cry,  that  several  of  the  guests  sprang  to  their  feet. 
"  What  is  it?  What  is  it?  "  they  asked.  She  tried  to 
reply,  but  could  not.  Her  lips  parted,  she  opened  her 
mouth,  but  no  sound  came  forth.  She  turned  ghastly 
white  under  her  rouge,  and  a  wild,  unnatural  light 
gleamed  in  her  eyes.  One  curious  guest,  without  a 
thought  of  harm,  tried  to  take  the  card,  which  she  still 
held  in  her  clinched  hand  ;  but  she  repulsed  him  with 
such  an  imperious  gesture  that  he  recoiled  in  terror. 
"  What  is  it?  What  is  the  matter  with  her?  "  was  the 
astonished  query  on  every  side. 

At  last,  with  a  terrible  effort,  she  managed  to  reply, 
"  Nothing."  And  then,  after  clinging  for  a  moment  to 
the  mantel-shelf,  in  order  to  steady  herself,  she  tottered 
out  of  the  room. 


VII. 


It  was  not  enough  to  tell  M.  Wilkie  the  secret  of  his 
birth.  He  must  be  taught  how  to  utilize  the  knowledge. 
The  Viscount  de  Coralth  devoted  himself  to  this  task, 
and  burdened  Wilkie  with  such  a  host  of  injunctions, 
that  it  was  quite  evident  he  had  but  a  poor  opinion  of 
his  pupil's  sagacity.  "  That  woman  d'Argelès,"  he 
thought,  "  is  as  sharp  as  steel.  She  will  deceive  this 
young  idiot  completely,  if  I  don't  warn  him." 

So  he  did  warn  him  ;  and  Wilkie  was  instructed  ex- 
actly what  to  do  and  say,  how  to  answer  any  questions. 


BARON   TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE     103 

and  what  position  to  take  up  according  to  circum- 
stances. Moreover,  he  was  especially  enjoined  to  dis- 
trust tears,  and  not  to  let  himself  be  put  out  of  counte- 
nance by  haughty  airs.  The  viscount  spent  at  least  an 
hour  in  giving  explanations  and  advice,  to  the  great 
disgust  of  M.  Wilkie,  who,  feeling  that  he  was  being 
treated  like  a  child,  somewhat  testily  declared  that  he 
was  no  fool,  and  that  he  knew  how  to  take  care  of 
himself  as  well  as  any  one  else.  Still,  this  did  not 
prevent  M.  de  Coralth  from  persisting  in  his  instruc- 
tions until  he  was  persuaded  that  he  had  prepared  his 
pupil  for  all  possible  emergencies.  He  then  rose  to 
depart.  "  That's  all,  I  think,"  he  remarked,  with 
a  shade  of  uneasiness.  "  I've  traced  the  plan 
— you  must  execute  it,  and  keep  cool,  or  the  game's 
lost." 

His  companion  rose  proudly.  "  If  it  fails,  it  won't 
be  from  any  fault  of  mine,"  he  answered  with  unmis- 
takable petulance. 

"  Lose  no  time." 

"  There's  no  danger  of  that." 

"  And  understand,  that  whatever  happens,  my  name 
is  not  to  be  mentioned." 

"  Yes,  yes." 

"If  there  should  be  any  new  revelations,  I  will  in- 
form you." 

"At  the  club?" 

"  Yes,  but  don't  be  uneasy  ;  the  affair  is  as  good  as 
concluded." 

"  I  hope  so,  indeed." 

Wilkie  gave  a  sigh  of  relief  as  he  saw  his  visitor 
depart.  He  wished  to  be  alone,  so  as  to  brood  over  the 
delights  that  the  future  had  in  store  for  him.  He  was 
no  longer  to  be  limited  to  a  paltry  allowance  of  twenty 


104    BARON   TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

thousand  francs  !  No  more  debts,  no  more  ungratified 
longings.  He  would  have  millions  at  his  disposal  !  He 
seemed  to  see  them,  to  hold  them,  to  feel  them  gliding 
in  golden  waves  between  his  fingers  !  What  horses  he 
would  have  !  what  carriages  !  what  mistresses  !  And  a 
gleam  of  envy  that  he  had  detected  in  M.  de  Coralth's 
eyes  put  the  finishing  touch  to  his  bliss.  To  be  envied 
by  this  brilliant  viscount,  his  model  and  his  ideal,  what 
happiness  it  wasj 

The  reputation  that  Madame  d'Argelès  bore  had  at 
first  cast  a  shadow  over  his  joy;  but  this  shadow  had 
soon  vanished.  He  was  troubled  by  no  foolish  preju- 
dices, and  personally  he  cared  little  or  nothing  for  his 
mother's  reputation.  The  prejudices  of  society  must, 
of  course,  be  considered.  But  nonsense  !  society  has  no 
prejudices  nowadays  when  millionaires  are  concerned, 
and  asks  no  questions  respecting  their  parents.  Society 
only  requires  passports  of  the  indigent.  Besides,  no 
matter  what  Madame  d'Argelès  might  have  done,  she 
was  none  the  less  a  Chalusse,  the  descendant  of  one  of 
the  most  aristocratic  families  in  France. 

Such  were  Wilkie's  meditations  while  he  was  en- 
gaged in  dressing  himself  with  more  than  usual  care. 
He  had  been  quite  shocked  by  the  suggestion  that 
Madame  d'Argelès  might  try  to  deny  him,  and  he 
wished  to  appear  before  her  in  the  most  advantageous 
light.  His  toilette  was  consequently  a  lengthy  opera- 
tion. However,  shortly  after  twelve  o'clock  he  was 
ready.  He  cast  a  last  admiring  glance  at  himself  in 
the  mirror,  twirled  his  mustaches,  and  departed  on  his 
mission-  He  even  went  on  foot,  which  was  a  concession 
to  what  he  considered  M.  de  Coralth's  absurd  ideas. 
The  aspect  of  the  Hôtel  d'Argelès,  in  the  Rue  de  Berry, 
impressed  him  favorably,  but,  at  the  same  time,  it  some- 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE     105 

what  disturbed  his  superb  assurance.  "  Everything  is 
very  styHsh  here,"  he  muttered. 

A  couple  of  servants — ^the  concierge  and  Job — were 
standing  at  the  door  engaged  in  conversation.  M. 
Wilkie  approached  them,  and  in  his  most  imposing 
manner,  but  not  without  a  sHght  tremble  in  his  voice, 
requested  to  see  Madame  d'Argelès.  "  Madame  is  in 
the  country,"  replied  the  concierge  ;  "  she  will  not  re- 
turn before  this  evening.  If  monsieur  will  leave  his 
card •" 

"  Oh  !  that's  quite  unnecessary.  I  shall  be  passing 
again." 

This,  too,  was  in  obedience  to  the  instructions  of  M. 
de  Coralth,  who  had  advised  him  not  to  send  in  his 
name,  but  to  gain  admission  into  Madame  d'Argelès's 
presence  as  speedily  as  possible,  without  giving  her  time 
to  prepare  herself  for  the  interview;  and  Wilkie  had 
ultimately  decided  that  these  precautions  might  not 
prove  as  superfluous  as  he  had  at  first  supposed.  But 
this  first  mishap  annoyed  him  extremely.  What  should 
he  do  ?  how  should  he  kill  time  till  the  evening  ?  A  cab 
was  passing.  He  hired  it  for  a  drive  to  the  Bois, 
whence  he  returned  to  the  boulevards,  played  a  game  of 
billiards  with  one  of  the  co-proprietors  of  Pompier  de 
Nanterre,  and  finally  dined  at  the  Café  Riche,  devoting 
as  much  time  as  possible  to  the  operation.  He  was 
finishing  his  coffee  when  the  clock  struck  eight.  He 
caught  up  his  hat,  drew  on  his  gloves,  and  hastened  to 
the  Hôtel  d'Argelès  again. 

"  Madame  has  not  yet  returned,"  said  the  concierge, 
who  knew  that  his  mistress  had  only  just  risen  from 
her  bed,  "  but  I  don't  think  it  will  be  long.  And  if 
monsieur  wishes " 

"  No,"   replied   M.   Wilkie  brusquely,   and   he   was 


106    BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

going  off  in  a  furious  passion,  when,  on  crossing  the 
street,  he  chanced  to  turn  his  head  and  notice  that  the 
reception  rooms  were  brilliantly  lighted  up.  "  Ah  !  I 
think  that  a  very  shabby  trick  !  "  grumbled  the  intelli- 
gent youth.  "  They  won't  succeed  in  playing  that  game 
on  me  again.     Why,  she's  there  now  !  " 

It  occurred  to  him  that  Madame  d'Argelès  had  per- 
haps described  him  to  her  servants,  and  had  given  them 
strict  orders  not  to  admit  him.  "  I'll  find  out  if  that  is 
the  case,  even  if  I  have  to  wait  here  until  to-morrow 
morning,"  he  thought,  angrily.  However,  he  had  not 
been  on  guard  very  long,  when  he  saw  a  brougham  stop 
in  front  of  the  mansion,  whereupon  the  gate  opened,  as 
if  by  enchantment.  The  vehicle  entered  the  courtyard, 
deposited  its  occupants,  and  drove  away.  A  second  car- 
riage soon  appeared,  then  a  third,  and  then  five  or  six 
in  quick  succession.  "  And  does  she  think  I'll  wear  out 
my  shoe-leather  here,  while  everybody  else  is  allowed 
to  enter?"  he  grumbled.  "Never! — I've  an  idea." 
And,  without  giving  himself  time  for  further  delibera- 
tion, he  returned  to  his  rooms,  arrayed  himself  in  even- 
ing-dress, and  sent  for  his  carriage.  "  You  will  drive 
to  No.  —  in  the  Rue  de  Berry,"  he  said.  "  There 
is  a  soirée  there,  and  you  can  drive  directly  into 
the  courtyard."  The  coachman  obeyed,  and  M. 
Wilkie  realized  that  his  idea  was  really  an  excellent 
one. 

As  soon  as  he  alighted,  the  doors  were  thrown  open, 
and  he  ascended  a  handsome  staircase,  heavily  carpeted, 
and  adorned  with  flowers.  Two  liveried  footmen  were 
standing  at  the  door  of  the  drawing-room,  and  one  of 
them  advanced  to  relieve  Wilkie  of  his  overcoat,  but  his 
services  were  declined.  "  I  don't  wish  to  go  in,"  said 
the  young  man  roughly.      "  I    wish    to  speak    with 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE     107 

Madame  d'Argelès  in  private.  She  is  expecting  me — 
inform  her.     Here  is  my  card." 

The  servant  was  hesitating,  when  Job,  suspecting 
some  mystery  perhaps,  approached.  "  Take  in  the  gen- 
tleman's card,"  he  said,  with  an  air  of  authority;  and, 
opening  the  door  of  a  small  room  on  the  left-hand  side 
of  the  staircase,  he  invited  Wilkie  to  enter,  saying,  "  If 
monsieur  will  be  kind  enough  to  take  a  seat,  I  will  sum- 
mon madame  at  once." 

M.  Wilkie  sank  into  an  arm-chair,  considerably  over- 
come. The  air  of  luxury  that  pervaded  the  entire  estab- 
lishment, the  liveried  servants,  the  lights  and  flowers, 
all  impressed  him  much  more  deeply  than  he  would 
have  been  willing  to  confess.  And  in  spite  of  his 
afïected  arrogance,  he  felt  that  the  superb  assurance 
which  was  the  dominant  trait  in  his  character  was  de- 
serting him.  In  his  breast,  moreover,  in  the  place  where 
physiologists  locate  the  heart,  he  felt  certain  extraordi- 
nary movements  which  strongly  resembled  palpitations. 
For  the  first  time  it  occurred  to  him  that  this  woman, 
whose  peace  he  had  come  to  destroy,  was  not  only  the 
heiress  of  the  Count  de  Chalusse's  millions,  but  also  his 
mother,  that  is  to  say,  the  good  fairy  whose  protection 
had  followed  him  everywhere  since  he  entered  the 
world.  The  thought  that  he  was  about  to  commit  an 
atrocious  act  entered  his  mind,  but  he  drove  it  away. 
It  was  too  late  now  to  draw  back,  or  even  to  reflect. 

Suddenly  a  door  opposite  the  one  by  which  he  had 
entered  opened,  and  Madame  d'Argelès  appeared  on  the 
threshold.  She  was  no  longer  the  woman  whose  an- 
guish and  terror  had  alarmed  her  guests.  During  the 
brief  moment  of  respite  which  fate  had  granted  her, 
she  had  summoned  all  her  energy  and  courage,  and 
had  mastered  her  despair.     She  felt  that  her  salvation 


108    BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

depended  upon  her  calmness,  and  she  had  succeeded  in 
appearing  calm,  haughty,  and  disdainful — as  impassive 
as  if  she  had  been  a  statue.  "  Was  it  you,  sir,  who 
sent  me  this  card  ?  "  she  inquired. 

Greatly  disconcerted,  M.  Wilkie  could  only  bow  and 
stammer  out  an  almost  unintelligible  answer.  "  Ex- 
cuse me  !  I  am  much  grieved,  upon  my  word  !  I  disturb 
you,  perhaps " 

"  You  are  Monsieur  Wilkie  !  "  interrupted  Madame 
d'Argelès,  in  a  tone  of  mingled  irony  and  disdain. 

"  Yes,"  he  replied,  drawling  out  the  name  afïectedly, 
"  I  am  M.  Wilkie." 

"  Did  you  desire  to  speak  with  me  ?  "  inquired 
Madame  d'Argelès,  dryly. 

"  In  fact — yes.     I  should  like " 

"  Very  well.  I  will  listen  to  you,  although  your  visit 
is  most  inopportune,  for  I  have  eighty  guests  or  more 
in  my  drawing-room.     Still,  speak  !  " 

It  was  very  easy  to  say  "  speak,"  but  unfortunately 
for  M.  Wilkie  he  could  not  articulate  a  syllable.  His 
tongue  was  as  stiff,  and  as  dry,  as  if  it  had  been  para- 
lyzed. He  nervously  passed  and  repassed  his  fingers 
between  his  neck  and  his  collar,  but  although  this  gave 
full  play  to  his  cravat,  his  words  did  not  leave  his 
throat  any  more  readily.  For  he  had  imagined  that 
Madame  d'Argelès  would  be  like  other  women  he  had 
known,  but  not  at  all.  He  found  her  to  be  an  extremely 
proud  and  awe-inspiring  creature,  who,  to  use  his  own 
vocabulary,  squelched  him  completely.     "  I  wished  to 

say  to  you,"  he  repeated,  "  I  wished  to  say  to  you " 

But  the  words  he  was  seeking  would  not  come  ;  and,  so 
at  last,  angry  with  himself,  he  exclaimed  :  "  Ah  !  you 
know  as  well  as  I,  why  I  have  come.  Do  you  dare  to 
pretend  that  you  don't  know  ?  " 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE     109 

She  looked  at  him  with  admirably  feigned  astonish- 
ment, glanced  despairingly  at  the  ceiling,  shrugged  her 
shoulders,  and  replied  :  "  Most  certainly  I  don't  know — 
unless  indeed  it  be  a  wager." 

"  A  wager  !  "  ]\I.  Wilkie  wondered  if  he  were  not  the 
victim  of  some  practical  joke,  and  if  there  were  not  a 
crowd  of  listeners  hidden  somewhere,  who,  after  enjoy- 
ing his  discomfiture,  would  suddenly  make  their  ap- 
pearance, holding  their  sides.  This  fear  restored  his 
presence  of  mind.  "  Well,  then,"  he  replied,  huskily, 
"  this  is  .my  reason.  I  know  nothing  respecting  my 
parents.  This  morning,  a  man  with  whom  you  are  well 
acquainted,  assured  me  that  I  was — your  son.  I  was 
completely  stunned  at  first,  but  after  a  while  I  recov- 
ered sufficiently  to  call  here,  and  found  that  you  had 
gone  out." 

He  was  interrupted  by  a  nervous  laugh  from  Madame 
d'Argelès.  For  she  was  heroic  enough  to  laugh,  al- 
though death  was  in  her  heart,  and  although  the  nails 
of  her  clinched  hands  were  embedded  deep  in  her 
quivering  flesh.  "And  you  believed  him,  monsieur?" 
she  exclaimed.  "  Really,  this  is  too  absurd  !  I — your 
mother  !     Why,  look  at  me " 

He  was  doing  nothing  else,  he  was  watching  her  with 
all  the  powers  of  penetration  he  possessed.  Madame 
d'Argelès's  laugh  had  an  unnatural  ring  that  awakened 
his  suspicions.  All  Coralth's  recommendations  buzzed 
confusedly  in  his  ears,  and  he  judged  that  the  moment 
had  come  "  to  do  the  sentimental,"  as  he  would  have 
expressed  it.  So  he  lowered  his  head,  and  in  an  ag- 
grieved tone,  exclaimed  :  "  Ah  !  you  think  it  very  amus- 
ing, I  don't.  Do  you  realize  how  wretched  it  makes  one 
to  live  as  utterly  alone  as  a  leper,  without  a  soul  to 
love  or  care  for  you  ?    Other  young  men  have  a  mother. 


110    BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

sisters,  relatives.     I  have  no  one  !    Ah  !  if But  I 

only  have  friends  while  my  money  lasts."  He  wiped 
his  eyes,  dry  as  they  were,  with  his  handkerchief,  and 
in  a  still  more  pathetic  tone,  resumed  :  "  Not  that  I 
want  for  anything;  I  receive  a  very  handsome  allow- 
ance. But  when  my  relatives  have  given  me  the  where- 
withal to  keep  me  from  starving,  they  imagine  their 
duty  is  fulfilled.  I  think  this  very  hard.  I  didn't  come 
into  the  world  at  my  own  request,  did  I  ?  I  didn't  ask 
to  be  born.  If  I  was  such  an  annoyance  to  them  when 
I  came  into  existence,  why  didn't  they  throw  me  into 
the  river?  Then  they  would  have  been  well  rid  of  me, 
and  I  should  be  out  of  my  misery  !  " 

He  stopped  short,  struck  dumb  with  amazement,  for 
Madame  d'Argelès  had  thrown  herself  on  her  knees  at 
his  feet.  "  Have  mercy  !  "  she  faltered  ;  "  Wilkie,  my 
son,  forgive  me  !  "  Alas  !  the  unfortunate  woman  had 
failed  in  playing  a  part  which  was  too  difficult  for  a 
mother's  heart.    "  You  have  suffered  cruelly,  my  son," 

she  continued  ;  "  but  I — I Ah  !  you  can't  conceive 

the  frightful  agony  it  costs  a  mother  to  separate  from 
her  child!  But  you  were  not  deserted,  Wilkie;  don't 
say  that.  Have  you  not  felt  my  love  in  the  air  around 
you?  You  forgotten?  Know,  then,  that  for  years  and 
years  I  have  seen  you  every  day,  and  that  all  my 
thoughts  and  all  my  hopes  are  centered  in  you  alone  ! 
Wilkie  !  " 

She  dragged  herself  toward  him  with  her  hands 
clasped  in  an  agony  of  supplication,  while  he  recoiled, 
frightened  by  this  outburst  of  passion,  and  utterly 
amazed  by  his  easily  won  victory.  The  poor  woman 
misunderstood  this  movement.  "  Great  God  !  "  she  ex- 
claimed, "  he  spurns  me  ;  he  loathes  me.  Ah  !  I  knew  it 
would  be  so.    Oh  !  why  did  you  come  ?    What  infamous 


SHE  DRAGGED  HERSELF  TOWARD  HIM  WITH  HER  HANDS  CLASPED  IN  AN 
AGONY  OF  SUPPLICATION,  WHILE  HE  RECOILED,  FRIGHTENED  BY 
THIS  OUTBURST  OF  PASSION 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE     111 

wretch  sent  you  here  ?  Name  him,  Wilkie  !  Do  you 
understand,  now,  why  I  concealed  myself  from  you  ? 
I  dreaded  the  day  when  I  should  blush  before  you, 
before  my  own  son.  And  yet  it  was  for  your  sake. 
Death  would  have  been  a  rest,  a  welcome  release  for 
me.  But  your  breath  was  ebbing  away,  your  poor  little 
arms  no  longer  had  strength  to  clasp  me  round  the 
neck.  And  then  I  cried  :  '  Perish  my  soul  and  body,  if 
"only  my  child  can  be  saved!  '  I  believed  such  a  sacri- 
fice permissible  in  a  mother.  I  am  punished  for  it  as 
if  it  were  a  crime.  I  thought  you  would  be  happy,  my 
Wilkie.  I  said  to  myself  that  you,  my  pride  and  joy, 
would  move  freely  and  proudly  far  above  me  and  my 
shame.  I  accepted  ignominy,  so  that  your  honor  might 
be  preserved  intact.  I  knew  the  horrors  of  abject  pov- 
erty, and  I  wished  to  save  my  son  from  it.  I  would 
have  licked  up  the  very  mire  in  your  pathway  to  save 
you  from  a  stain.  I  renounced  all  hope  for  myself,  and 
I  consecrated  all  that  was  noble  and  generous  in  my 
nature  to  you.  Oh  !  I  will  discover  the  vile  coward  who 
sent  you  here,  who  betrayed  my  secret.  I  will  discover 
him  and  I  will  have  my  revenge  !  You  were  never  to 
know  this,  Wilkie.  In  parting  from  you,  I  took  a  sol- 
emn oath  never  to  see  you  again,  and  to  die  without 
the  supreme  consolation  of  feeling  your  lips  upon  my 
forehead." 

She  could  not  continue  ;  sobs  choked  her  utterance. 
And  for  more  than  a  minute  the  silence  was  so  profound 
that  one  could  hear  the  sound  of  low  conversation  in 
the  hall  outside,  the  exclamations  of  the  players  as  they 
greeted  each  unexpected  turn  of  luck,  and  occasionally 
a  cry  of  "  Banco  !  "  or  "  I  stake  one  hundred  louis  !  " 
Standing  silent  and  motionless  near  the  window,  Wilkie 
gazed  with  consternation  at  Madame  d'Argelès,   his 


112     BAllON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

mother,  who  was  crouching  in  the  middle  of  the  room 
with  her  face  hidden  in  her  hands,  and  sobbing  as  if 
her  heart  would  break.  He  would  willingly  have  given 
his  third  share  in  Pompier  de  Nanterre  to  have  made 
his  escape.  The  strangeness  of  the  scene  appalled  him. 
It  was  not  emotion  that  he  felt,  but  an  instinctive  fear 
mingled  with  commiseration.  And  he  was  not  only 
ill  at  ease,  but  he  was  angry  with  himself  for  what  he 
secretly  styled  his  weakness.  "  Women  are  incom- 
prehensible," he  thought.  "  It  would  be  so  easy  to  ex- 
plain things  quietly  and  properly,  but  they  must  always 
cry  and  have  a  sort  of  melodrama." 

Suddenly  the  sound  of  footsteps  near  the  door  roused 
him  from  his  stupor.  He  shuddered  at  the  thought  that 
some  one  might  come  in.  He  hated  the  very  idea  of 
ridicule.  So  summoning  all  his  courage  he  went  toward 
Madame  d'Argelès,  and,  raising  her  from  the  fîoor,  he 
exclaimed  :  "  Don't  cry  so.  You  grieve  me,  upon  my 
word  !  Pray  get  up.  Some  one  is  coming.  Do  you 
hear  me?  Some  one  is  coming."  Thereupon,  as  she 
oflfered  no  resistance,  he  half  led,  half  carried  her  to 
an  arm-chair,  into  which  she  sank  heavily.  "  Now  she 
is  going  to  faint  !  "  thought  Wilkie,  in  despair.  What 
should  he  do?  Call  for  help?  He  dared  not.  How- 
ever, necessity  inspired  him.  He  knelt  at  Madame 
d'Argelès's  feet,  and  gently  said  :  "  Come,  come,  be  rea- 
sonable !  Why  do  you  give  way  like  this?  I  don't 
reproach  you  !  " 

Slowly,  with  an  air  of  humility  which  was  indescrib- 
ably touching,  she  took  her  hands  from  her  face,  and 
for  the  first  time  raised  her  tear-stained  eyes  to  her 
son's.    "  Wilkie,"  she  murmured. 

"  Madame  !  " 

She  heaved  a  deep  sigh,  and  in  a  half-stifled  voice  : 


BARON   TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE     113 

"Madame! "  she  repeated.  "Will  you  not  call  me 
mother  ?  " 

"  Yes,  of  course — certainly.  But — only  you  know  it 
will  take  me  some  time  to  acquire  the  habit.  I  shall  do 
so,  of  course  ;  but  I  shall  have  to  get  used  to  it,  you 
know." 

"  True,  very  true  ! — but  tell  me  it  is  not  mere  pity 
that  leads  you  to  make  this  promise?  If  you  should 
hate  me — if  you  should  curse  me — how  should  I  bear 
it  !  Ah  !  when  a  woman  reaches  the  years  of  under- 
standing one  should  never  cease  repeating  to  her  :  '  Take 
care  !  Your  son  will  be  twenty  some  day,  and  you  will 
have  to  meet  his  searching  gaze.  You  will  have  to  ren- 
der an  account  of  your  honor  to  him  !  '  My  God  !  If 
women  thought  of  this,  they  would  never  sin.  To  be 
reduced  to  such  a  state  of  abject  misery  that  one  dares 
not  lift  one's  head  before  one's  own  son  !  Alas  !  Wilkie, 
I  know  only  too  well  that  you  cannot  help  despising 
me." 

"  No,  indeed.    Not  at  all  !    What  an  idea  !  " 

"  Tell  me  that  you  forgive  me  !  " 

"  I  do,  upon  my  word  I  do." 

Poor  woman,  her  face  brightened.  She  so  longed  to 
believe  him  !  And  her  son  was  beside  her,  so  near  that 
she  felt  his  breath  upon  her  cheek.  It  was  he  indeed. 
Had  they  ever  been  separated?  She  almost  doubted 
it,  she  had  lived  so  near  him  in  thought.  It  was  with 
a  sort  of  ecstasy  that  she  looked  at  him.  There  was  a 
world  of  entreaty  in  her  eyes  ;  they  seemed  to  be  beg- 
ging a  caress  ;  she  raised  her  quivering  lips  to  his,  but 
he  did  not  observe  it.  For  a  long  time  she  hesitated, 
fearing  he  might  spurn  her;  but  at  last,  yielding  to  a 
supreme  impulse,  she  threw  her  arms  around  his  neck, 
drew  him  toward  her,  and  pressed  him  to  her  heart  in 


114    BARON   TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

a  close  embrace.  "  My  son  !  my  son  !  "  she  repeated  ; 
*'  to  have  you  with  me  again,  after  all  these  years  !  " 

Unfortunately,  no  whirlwind  of  passion  was  capable 
of  carrying  M.  Wilkie  beyond  himself.  His  emotion 
was  now  spent  and  his  mind  had  regained  its  usual  in- 
difiference.  He  flattered  himself  that  he  was  a  man  of 
mettle — and  he  remained  as  cold  as  ice  beneath  his 
mother's  kisses.  Indeed,  he  barely  tolerated  them  ;  and 
if  he  did  allow  her  to  embrace  him,  it  was  only  because 
he  did  not  know  how  to  refuse.  "  Will  she  never  have 
done  ?  "  he  thought.  "  This  is  a  pretty  state  of  things  ! 
I  must  be  very  attractive.  How  Costard  and  Serpillon 
would  laugh  if  they  saw  me  now."  Costard  and  Ser- 
pillon were  his  intimate  friends,  the  co-proprietors  of 
the  famous  steeplechaser. 

In  her  rapture,  however,  Madame  d'Argelès  did  not 
observe  the  peculiar  expression  on  her  son's  face.  She 
had  compelled  him  to  take  a  chair  opposite  her,  and, 
with  nervous  volubility,  she  continued  :  "  If  I  don't  deny 
myself  the  happiness  of  embracing  you  again,  it  is  be- 
cause I  have  not  broken  the  vow  I  took  never  to  make 
myself  known  to  you.  When  I  entered  this  room,  I 
was  firmly  resolved  to  convince  you,  no  matter  how, 
that  you  had  been  deceived.  God  knows  that  it  was  not 
my  fault  if  I  did  not  succeed.  There  are  some  sacrifices 
that  are  above  human  strength." 

M.  Wilkie  deigned  to  smile.  "  Oh  !  yes,  I  saw  your 
little  game,"  he  said,  with  a  knowing  air.  "  But  I  had 
been  well  posted,  and  besides,  it  is  not  very  easy  to  fool 
me. 

Madame  d'Argelès  did  not  even  hear  him.  "  Per- 
haps destiny  is  weary  of  afflicting  us,"  she  continued; 
"  perhaps  a  new  life  is  about  to  begin.  Through  you, 
Wilkie,  I  can  again  be  happy.     I,  who  for  years  have 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE     115 

lived  without  even  hope.  But  will  you  have  courage  to 
forget  ?  " 

"What?" 

She  hung  her  head,  and  in  an  almost  inaudible  voice 
replied,  "  The  past,  Wilkie." 

But  with  an  air  of  the  greatest  indifference,  he 
snapped  his  fingers,  and  exclaimed  :  "  Nonsense  !  What 
is  past  is  past.  Such  things  are  soon  forgotten.  Paris 
has  known  many  such  cases.  You  are  my  mother;  I 
care  very  little  for  public  opinion.  I  begin  by  pleasing 
myself,  and  I  consult  other  people  afterward  ;  and  when 
they  are  dissatisfied,  I  tell  them  to  mind  their  own 
business." 

The  poor  woman  listened  to  these  words  with  a  joy 
bordering  on  rapture.  One  might  have  supposed  that 
the  strangeness  of  her  son's  expressions  would  have 
surprised  her — have  enlightened  her  in  regard  to  his 
true  character — but  no.  She  only  saw  and  understood 
one  thing — that  he  had  no  intention  of  casting  her  off, 
but  was  indeed  ready  to  devote  himself  to  her.  "  My 
God  !  "  she  faltered,  "  is  this  really  true  ?  Will  you 
allow  me  to  remain  with  you  ?  Oh,  don't  reply  rashly  ! 
Consider  well,  before  you  promise  to  make  such  a  sacri- 
fice. Think  how  much  sorrow  and  pain  it  will  cost 
you." 

"  I  have  considered.     It  is  decided — mother." 

She  sprang  up,  wild  with  hope  and  enthusiasm. 
"  Then  we  are  saved  !  "  she  cried.  "  Blessed  be  he  who 
betrayed  my  secret  !  And  I  doubted  your  courage,  my 
Wilkie  !  At  last  I  can  escape  from  this  hell  !  This  very 
night  we  will  fly  from  this  house,  without  one  backward 
glance.  I  will  never  set  foot  in  these  rooms  again — 
the  detested  gamblers  who  are  sitting  here  shall  never 
see  me  again.    From  this  moment  Lia  d'Argelès  is  dead." 


116    BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

M.  Wilkie  positively  felt  like  a  man  who  had  just 
fallen  from  the  clouds.  "  What,  fly  ?  "  he  stammered. 
"  Where  shall  we  go,  then  ?  " 

"  To  a  country  where  we  are  unknown,  Wilkie — to  a 
land  where  you  will  not  have  to  blush  for  your  mother." 

"  But •" 

"  Trust  yourself  to  me,  my  son.  I  know  a  pleasant 
village  near  London  where  we  can  find  a  refuge.  My 
connections  in  England  are  such  that  you  need  not 
fear  the  obstacles  one  generally  meets  with  among  for- 
eigners. M.  Patterson,  who  manages  a  large  manufac- 
turing establishment,  will,  I  know,  be  happy  to  be  of 
service  to  us — but  we  shall  not  be  indebted  to  any  one 
for  long,  now  that  you  have  resolved  to  work." 

On  hearing  these  words,  M.  Wilkie  sprang  up  in 
dismay.  "  Excuse  me,"  he  said,  "  I  don't  understand 
you.  You  propose  to  set  me  to  work  in  M.  Patterson's 
factory  ?  Well,  to  tell  the  truth,  that  doesn't  suit  me  at 
all." 

It  was  impossible  to  mistake  M.  Wilkie's  manner,  his 
tone,  or  gesture.  They  revealed  him  in  his  true  char- 
acter. Madame  d'Argelès  saw  her  terrible  mistake  at 
once.  The  bandage  fell  from  her  eyes.  She  had  taken 
her  dreams  for  realities,  and  the  desires  of  her  own 
heart  for  those  of  her  son.  She  rose,  trembling  with 
sorrow  and  with  indignation.  "  Wilkie  !  "  she  ex- 
claimed, "  Wilkie,  wretched  boy  !  what  did  you  dare  to 
hope?" 

And,  without  giving  him  time  to  reply,  she  continued  : 
"  Then  it  was  only  idle  curiosity  that  brought  you  here. 
You  wished  to  know  the  source  of  the  money  which  you 
spend  like  water.  Very  well,  you  may  see  for  your- 
self. This  is  a  gambling  house  ;  one  of  those  establish- 
ments frequented  by  distinguished  personages,  which 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE     117 

the  police  ignore,  or  which  they  cannot  suppress.  The 
hubbub  you  hear  is  made  by  the  players.  Men  are 
ruined  here.  Some  poor  wretches  have  blown  their 
brains  out  on  leaving  the  house;  others  have  parted 
with  the  last  vestige  of  honor  here.  And  the  business 
pays  me  well.  One  louis  out  of  every  hundred  that 
change  hands  falls  to  my  share.  This  is  the  source  of 
your  wealth,  my  son." 

This  anger,  which  succeeded  such  deep  grief — this 
outburst  of  disdain,  following  such  abject  humility — 
considerably   astonished    M.    Wilkie.     "  Allow    me    to 

ask "  he  began. 

But  he  was  not  allowed  a  hearing.  "  Fool  !  "  con- 
tinued Madame  d'Argelès,  "  did  nothing  warn  you  that 
in  coming  here  you  would  deprive  yourself  forever  of 
the  income  you  received  ?  Did  no  inward  voice  tell  you 
that  all  would  be  changed  when  you  compelled  me,  Lia 
d'Argelès,  to  say,  '  Well,  yes,  it  is  true  ;  you  are  my 
son  ?  '  So  long  as  you  did  not  know  who  and  what  I 
was,  I  had  a  mother's  right  to  watch  over  you.  I  could 
help  you  without  disgracing  you,  without  despising  you. 
But  now  that  you  know  me,  and  know  what  I  am,  I  can 
do  nothing  more  for  you — nothing  !  I  would  rather  let 
you  starve  than  succor  you,  for  I  would  rather  see  you 
dead  than  dishonored  by  my  money," 

«  But " 

"  What  !  would  you  still  consent  to  receive  the  allow- 
ance I  have  made  you,  even  if  I  consented  to  continue 
it?" 

Had  a  viper  raised  its  head  in  M.  Wilkie's  path  he 
would  not  have  recoiled  more  quickly.  "  Never  !  "  he 
exclaimed.    "  Ah,  no  !    What  do  you  take  me  for  ?  " 

This  repugnance  was  sincere  ;  there  could  be  no  doubt 
of  that,  and  it  seemed  to  give  Madame  d'Argelès  a  ray 


118    BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

of  hope.  "  I  have  misjudged  him,"  she  thought.  "  Poor 
Wilkie  !  Evil  advice  has  led  him  astray  ;  but  he  is 
not  bad  at  heart.  In  that  case,  my  poor  child,"  she  said 
aloud,  "  you  must  see  that  a  new  life  is  about  to  com- 
mence for  you.  What  do  you  intend  to  do?  How  will 
you  gain  a  livelihood?  People  must  have  food,  and 
clothes,  and  a  roof  to  shelter  them.  These  things  cost 
money.  And  where  will  you  obtain  it — you  who  rebel 
at  the  very  w^ord  work?  Ah!  if  I  had  only  listened  to 
M.  Patterson.  He  was  not  blind  like  myself.  He  was 
always  telling  me  that  I  was  spoiling  you,  and  ruining 
your  future  by  giving  you  so  much  money.  Do  you  know 
that  you  have  spent  more  than  fifty  thousand  francs 
during  the  past  two  years  ?  How  have  you  squandered 
them  ?  Have  you  been  to  the  law-school  a  dozen  times  ? 
No.  But  you  can  be  seen  at  the  races,  at  the  opera, 
in  the  fashionable  restaurants,  and  at  every  place  of 
amusement  where  a  young  man  can  squander  money. 
And  who  are  your  associates?  Dissipated  and  heartless 
idlers,  grooms,  gamblers,  and  abandoned  women." 

A  sneer  from  M.  Wilkie  interrupted  her.  To  think 
that  any  one  should  dare  to  attack  his  friends,  his  tastes, 
and  his  pleasures.  Such  a  thing  was  not  to  be  toler- 
ated. "  This  is  astonishing — astonishing,  upon  my 
word  !  "  said  he.  "  You  moralizing  !  that's  really  too 
good  !  I  should  like  a  few  minutes  to  laugh  ;  it  is  too 
ridiculous  !  " 

Was  he  really  conscious  of  the  cruelty  of  his  ironical 
words?  The  blow  was  so  terrible  that  Madame  d'Ar- 
gelès  staggered  beneath  it.  She  was  prepared  for  any- 
thing and  everything  except  this  insult  from  her  son. 
Still,  she  accepted  it  without  rebellion,  although  it  was 
in  a  tone  of  heart-broken  anguish  that  she  replied  : 
"  Perhaps  I  have  no  right  to  tell  you  the  truth.    I  hope 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE     119 

the  future  will  prove  that  I  am  wrong.  However,  you 
are  without  resources,  and  you  have  no  profession. 
Pray  Heaven  that  you  may  never  know  what  it  is  to  be 
hungry  and  to  have  no  bread." 

For  some  time  already  the  ingenious  young  man  hau 
shown  unmistakable  signs  of  impatience.  This  gloomy 
prediction  irritated  him  beyond  endurance. 

"  All  this  is  empty  talk,"  he  interrupted.  **  I  don't 
mean  to  work,  for  it's  not  at  all  in  my  line.  Still,  I 
don't  expect  to  want  for  anything!  That's  plain 
enough,  I  hope." 

Madame  d'Argelès  did  not  wince.  "  What  do  you 
mean  to  do  then?  "  she  asked,  coldly.  "  I  don't  under- 
stand you." 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders  impatiently.  "  Are  we 
to  keep  up  this  farce  for  ever?"  he  petulantly  ex- 
claimed. "  It  doesn't  take  with  me.  You  know  what  I 
mean  as  well  as  I  do.  Why  do  you  talk  to  me  about 
dying  of  starvation?    What  about  the  fortune?  " 

"What  fortune?" 

"  Eh  ?  why,  my  uncle's,  of  course  !  Your  brother's, 
the  Count  de  Chalusse." 

Now  M.  Wilkie's  visit,  manner,  assurance,  wheedling, 
and  contradictions  were  all  explained.  That  maternal 
confidence  which  is  so  strong  in  the  hearts  of  mothers 
vanished  from  Madame  d'Argelès's  for  ever.  The 
depths  of  selfishness  and  cunning  she  discerned  in 
Wilkie's  mind  appalled  her.  She  now  understood  why 
he  had  declared  himself  ready  to  brave  public  opinion — 
wdiy  he  had  proved  wdlling  to  accept  his  share  of  the 
past  ignominy.  It  was  not  his  mother's,  but  the  Count 
de  Chalusse's  estate  that  he  claimed.  "  Ah  !  so  you've 
heard  of  that,"  she  said,  in  a  tone  of  bitter  irony.  And 
then,   remembering  M.   Isidore  Fortunat,   she   asked: 


120    BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

"  Some  one  has  sold  you  this  valuable  secret.  How 
much  have  you  promised  to  pay  him  in  case  of  success?" 

Although  Wilkie  prided  himself  on  being  very  clever, 
he  did  not  pretend  to  be  a  diplomatist,  and,  indeed,  he 
was  greatly  disconcerted  by  this  question  ;  still,  recov- 
ering himself,  he  replied  :  "  It  doesn't  matter  how  I 
obtained  the  information — whether  I  paid  for  it,  or 
whether  it  cost  me  nothing — but  I  know  that  you  are  a 
Chalusse,  and  that  you  are  the  heiress  of  the  count's 
property,  which  is  valued  at  eight  or  ten  millions  of 
francs.    Do  you  deny  it  ?  " 

Madame  d'Argelès  sadly  shook  her  head.  "  I  deny 
nothing,"  she  replied,  "  but  I  am  about  to  tell  you 
something  which  will  destroy  all  your  plans  and  ex- 
tinguish your  hopes.  I  am  resolved,  understand,  and 
my  resolution  is  irrevocable,  never  to  assert  my  rights. 
To  receive  this  fortune,  I  should  be  obliged  to  confess 
that  Lia  d'Argelès  is  a  Chalusse — and  that  is  a  confes- 
sion which  no  consideration  whatever  will  wring  from 
me." 

She  imagined  that  this  declaration  would  silence  and 
discomfit  Wilkie,  but  she  was  mistaken.  If  he  had  been 
obliged  to  depend  upon  himself  he  would  perhaps  have 
been  conquered  by  it;  but  he  was  armed  with  weapons 
which  had  been  furnished  by  the  cunning  viscount.  So 
he  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  coolly  replied  :  "  In  that 
case  we  should  remain  poor,  and  the  government  would 
take  possession  of  our  millions.  One  moment.  I  have 
something  to  say  in  this  matter.  You  may  renounce 
your  claim,  but  I  shall  not  renounce  mine.  I  am  your 
son,  and  I  shall  claim  the  property." 

"  Even  if  I  entreated  you  on  my  knees  not  to  do  so?  " 

"  Yes." 

Madame  d'Argelès's  eyes  flashed.     "  Very  well.     I 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE     121 

will  show  you  that  this  estate  can  never  be  yours.  By 
what  right  will  you  lay  claim  to  it?  Because  you  are 
my  son?  But  I  will  deny  that  you  are.  I  will  declare 
upon  oath  that  you  are  nothing  to  me,  and  that  I  don't 
even  know  you." 

But  even  this  did  not  daunt  Wilkie.  He  drew  from 
his  pocket  a  scrap  of  paper,  and  flourishing  it  tri- 
umphantly, he  exclaimed  :  "  It  would  be  extremely  cruel 
on  your  part  to  deny  me,  but  I  foresaw  such  a  con- 
tingency, and  here  is  my  answer,  copied  from  the  civil 
code:  'Article  341.  Inquiry  as  to  maternity  allowed, 
etc.,  etc'  " 

What  the  exact  bearing  of  Wilkie's  threat  might  be 
Madame  d'Argelès  did  not  know.  But  she  felt  that 
this  Article  341  would  no  doubt  destroy  her  last  hope; 
for  the  person  who  had  chosen  this  weapon  from  the 
code  to  place  it  in  Wilkie's  hand  must  have  chosen  it 
carefully.  She  understood  the  situation  perfectly. 
With  her  experience  of  life,  she  could  not  fail  to  un- 
derstand the  despicable  part  Wilkie  was  playing.  And 
though  it  was  not  her  son  who  had  conceived  this 
odious  plot,  it  was  more  than  enough  to  know  that  he 
had  consented  to  carry  it  into  execution.  Should  she 
try  to  persuade  Wilkie  to  abandon  this  shameful 
scheme?  She  might  have  done  so  if  she  had  not  been 
so  horrified  by  the  utter  want  of  principle  which  she 
had  discovered  in  his  character.  But,  under  the  cir- 
cumstances, she  realized  that  any  effort  in  this  direc- 
tion would  prove  unavailing.  So  it  was  purely  from  a 
sense  of  duty  and  to  prevent  her  conscience  from  re- 
proaching her  that  she  exclaimed  :  "  So  you  will  apply 
to  the  courts  in  order  to  constrain  me  to  acknowledge 
you  as  my  son  ?  " 

"If  you  are  not  reasonable " 


122     BARON   TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

"  That  is  to  say,  you  care  nothing  for  the  scandal 
that  will  be  created  by  such  a  course.  In  order  to 
prove  yourself  a  member  of  the  Chalusse  family  you 
will  begin  by  disgracing  the  name  and  dragging  it 
through  the  mire." 

Wilkie  had  no  wish  to  prolong  this  discussion.  So 
much  talk  about  an  affair,  which,  in  his  opinion,  at 
least,  was  an  extremely  simple  one,  seemed  to  him 
utterly  ridiculous,  and  irritated  him  beyond  endurance. 
''  It  strikes  me  this  is  much  ado  about  nothing,"  he 
remarked.  "  One  would  suppose,  to  hear  you  talk, 
that  you  were  the  greatest  criminal  in  the  world.  Good- 
ness is  all  very  well  in  its  way,  but  there  is  such  a 
thing  as  having  too  much  of  it  !  Break  loose  from  this 
life  to-morrow,  assume  your  rightful  name,  install  your- 
self at  the  Hôtel  de  Chalusse,  and  in  a  week  from  now 
no  one  will  remember  that  you  were  once  known  as 
Lia  d'Argelès.  I  wager  one  hundred  louis  on  it.  Why, 
if  people  attempted  to  rake  up  the  past  life  of  their 
acquaintances,  they  should  have  far  too  much  to  do. 
Folks  do  not  trouble  themselves  as  to  whether  a  person 
has  done  this  or  that;  the  essential  thing  is  to  have 
plenty  of  money.  And  if  any  fool  speaks  slightingly 
of  you,  you  can  reply  :  '  I  have  an  income  of  five  hun- 
dred thousand  francs,'  and  he'll  say  no  more." 

Madame  d'Argelès  listened,  speechless  with  horror 
and  disgust.  Was  it  really  her  son  who  was  speaking 
in  this  style,  and  to  her  of  all  people  in  the  world? 
M.  Wilkie  misunderstood  her  silence.  He  had  an  ex- 
cellent opinion  of  himself,  but  he  was  rather  surprised 
at  the  effect  of  his  eloquence.  "  Besides,  I'm  tired  of 
vegetating,  and  having  only  one  name,"  he  continued. 
"  I  want  to  be  on  the  move.  Even  with  the  small 
allowance  I've  had,  I  have  gained  a  very  good  position 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE     123 

in  society;  and  if  I  had  plenty  of  money  I  should  be 
the  most  stylish  man  in  Paris.  The  count's  estate  be- 
longs to  me,  and  so  I  must  have  it — in  fact,  I  will  have 
it.  So  believe  me  when  I  tell  you  that  it  will  be  much 
better  for  you  if  you  acknowledge  me  without  any  fuss  ! 
Now,  will  you  do  so  ?  No  ?  Once,  twice,  three  times  ? 
Is  it  still  no?  Very  well  then;  to-morrow,  then,  you 
may  expect  an  official  notice.  I  wish  you  good-evening." 

He  bowed;  he  was  really  going,  for  his  hand  was 
already  on  the  door-knob.  But  Madame  d'Argelès 
detained  him  with  a  gesture.  "  One  word  more,"  she 
said,  in  a  voice  hoarse  with  emotion. 

He  scarcely  deigned  to  come  back,  and  he  made  no 
attempt  to  conceal  his  impatience.  "  Well,  what  is  it  ?  " 
he  asked,  hastily. 

"  I  wish  to  give  you  a  bit  of  parting  advice.  The 
court  will  undoubtedly  decide  in  your  favor;  I  shall  be 
placed  in  possession  of  my  brother's  estate  ;  but  neither 
you  nor  I  will  have  the  disposal  of  these  millions." 

"Why?" 

"  Because,  though  this  fortune  belongs  to  me,  the 
control  of  it  belongs  to  your  father." 

M.  Wilkie  was  thunderstruck.  "  To  my  father?  "  he 
exclaimed.     "  Impossible  !  " 

"  It  is  so,  however  ;  and  you  would  not  have  been 
ignorant  of  the  fact,  if  your  greed  for  money  had  not 
made  you  forget  to  question  me.  You  believe  yourself 
an  illegitimate  child.  Wilkie,  you  are  mistaken.  You 
are  my  legitimate  child.    I  am  a  married  woman " 

"  Bah  !  " 

"  And  my  husband — your  father — is  not  dead.  If 
he  is  not  here  now,  threatening  our  safety,  it  is  because 
I  have  succeeded  in  eluding  him.  He  lost  all  trace  of 
us  eighteen  years  ago.     Since  then  he  has  been  con- 


124     BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

stantly  striving  to  discover  us,  but  in  vain.  He  is  still 
watching,  you  may  be  sure  of  that  ;  and  as  soon  as  there 
is  any  talk  of  a  law-suit  respecting  the  Chalusse  prop- 
erty, you  will  see  him  appear,  armed  with  his  rights. 
He  is  the  head  of  the  family — your  master  and  mine. 
Ah  !  this  seems  to  disturb  you.  You  will  find  him  full 
of  insatiable  greed  for  wealth,  a  greed  which  has  been 
whetted  by  twenty  years'  waiting.  You  may  yet  see 
the  day  when  you  will  regret  the  paltry  twenty  thou- 
sand francs  a  year  formerly  given  you  by  your  poor 
mother." 

Wilkie's  face  was  whiter  than  his  shirt.  "  You  are 
deceiving  me,"  he  stammered. 

"  To-morrow  I  will  show  you  my  marriage  certifi- 
cate." 

"  Why  not  this  evening?  " 

"  Because  it  is  locked  up  in  a  room  which  is  now 
full  of  people." 

"  And  what  was  my  father's  name?  " 

"  Arthur  Gordon — he  is  an  American." 

"  Then  my  name  is  Wilkie  Gordon  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  And— is  my  father  rich?"  he  inquired. 

"  No." 

"What  does  he  do?" 

"  Everything  that  a  man  can  do  when  he  has  a  taste 
for  luxury  and  a  horror  for  work." 

This  reply  was  so  explicit  in  its  brevity,  and  implied 
so  many  terrible  accusations,  that  Wilkie  was  dismayed. 
"  The  devil  !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  and  where  does  he  live  !  " 

"  He  lives  at  Baden  or  Homburg  in  the  summer  ;  in 
Paris  or  at  Monaco  in  the  winter." 

"  Oh  !  oh  !  oh  !  "  ejaculated  Wilkie,  in  three  dififerent 
tones.     He  knew  what  he  had  to  expect  from  such  a 


BARON   TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE     125 

father  as  that.  Anger  now  followed  stupor — one  of 
those  terrible,  white  rages  which  stir  the  bile  and  not 
the  blood.  He  saw  his  hopes  and  his  cherished  visions 
fade.  Luxury  and  notoriety,  high-stepping  horses,  yel- 
low-haired mistresses,  all  vanished.  He  pictured  himself 
reduced  to  a  mere  pittance,  and  held  in  check  and  dom- 
ineered over  by  a  brutal  father.  "  Ah  !  I  understand 
your  game,"  he  hissed  through  his  set  teeth.  "  If  you 
would  only  quietly  assert  your  rights,  everything  could 
be  arranged  privately,  and  I  should  have  time  to  put 
the  property  out  of  my  father's  reach  before  he  could 
claim  it.  Instead  of  doing  that — as  you  hate  me — you 
compel  me  to  make  the  afifair  public,  so  that  my  father 
will  hear  of  it  and  defraud  me  of  everything.  But  you 
won't  play  this  trick  on  me.  You  are  going  to  write 
at  once,  and  make  known  your  claim  to  your  brother's 
estate." 

"  No." 

"  Ah  !  you  won't?    You  refuse "    He  approached 

threateningly,  and  caught  hold  of  her  arm.  "  Take 
care  !  "  he  vociferated  ;  "  take  care  !  Do  not  infuriate 
me  beyond  endurance " 

As  cold  and  rigid  as  marble,  Madame  d'Argelès 
faced  him  with  the  undaunted  glance  of  a  martyr  whose 
spirit  no  violence  can  subdue,  "  You  will  obtain 
nothing  from  me,"  she  said,  firmly  ;  "  nothing,  nothing, 
nothing  !  " 

Maddened  with  rage  and  disappointment,  M.  Wilkie 
dared  to  lift  his  hand  as  if  about  to  strike  her.  But  at 
this  moment  the  door  was  flung  open,  and  a  man  sprang 
upon  him.     It  was  Baron  Trigault. 

Like  the  other  guests,  the  baron  had  seen  the  terrible 
effect  produced  upon  Madame  d'Argelès  by  a  simple 
visiting  card.     But  he   had  this   advantage   over   the 


126     BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

others  :  he  thought  he  could  divine  and  explain  the  rea- 
son of  this  sudden,  seemingly  incomprehensible  terror. 
"The  poor  woman  has  been  betrayed,"  he  tliought; 
"  her  son  is  here  !  "  Still,  while  the  other  players 
crowded  around  their  hostess,  he  did  not  leave  the  card- 
table.  He  was  sitting  opposite  M.  de  Coralth,  and  he 
had  seen  the  dashing  viscount  start  and  change  color. 
His  suspicions  were  instantly  aroused,  and  he  wished 
to  verify  them.  He  therefore  pretended  to  be  more 
than  ever  absorbed  in  the  cards,  and  swore  lustily  at 
the  deserters  who  had  broken  up  the  game.  "  Come 
back,  gentleman,  come  back,"  he  cried,  angrily.  "  We 
are  wasting  precious  time.  While  you  have  been  trifling 
there,  I  might  have  gained — or  lost — a  hundred  louis." 

He  was  nevertheless  greatly  alarmed,  and  the  pro- 
longed absence  of  Madame  d'Argelès  increased  his 
fears  each  moment.  At  the  end  of  an  hour  he  could 
restrain  himself  no  longer.  So  taking  advantage  of  a 
heavy  loss,  he  rose  from  the  table,  swearing  that  the 
beastly  turmoil  of  a  few  moments  before  had  changed 
the  luck.  Then  passing  into  the  adjoining  drawing- 
room,  he  managed  to  make  his  escape  unobserved. 
''Where  is  madame?"  he  inquired  of  the  first  servant 
he  met. 

"  In  the  little  sitting-room." 

"Alone?" 

"  No  ;  a  young  gentleman  is  with  her." 

The  baron  no  longer  doubted  the  correctness  of  his 
conjectures,  and  his  disquietude  increased.  Quickly, 
and  as  if  he  had  been  in  his  own  house,  he  hastened  to 
the  door  of  the  little  sitting-room  and  listened.  At  that 
moment  rage  was  imparting  a  truly  frightful  intonation 
to  M.  Wilkie's  voice.  The  baron  really  felt  alarmed. 
He  stooped,  applied  his  eye  to  the  keyhole,  and  seeing 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE     127 

M.  Wilkie  with  his  hand  uplifted,  he  burst  open  the 
door  and  went  in.  He  arrived  only  just  in  time  to  fell 
Wilkie  to  the  floor,  and  save  Madame  d'Argelès  from 
that  most  terrible  of  humiliations  :  the  degradation  of 
being  struck  by  her  own  son.  "  Ah,  you  rascal  !  "  cried 
the  worthy  baron,  transported  with  indignation,  "  you 
beggarly  rascal  !  you  brigand  !  Is  this  the  way 
you  treat  an  unfortunate  woman  who  has  sacrificed 
herself  for  you — your  mother?  You  try  to  strike 
your  mother,  when  you  ought  to  kiss  her  very  foot- 
prints !  " 

As  livid  as  if  his  blood  had  been  suddenly  turned  to 
gall — with  quivering  lips  and  eyes  starting  from  their 
sockets — M.  Wilkie  rose,  with  difficulty,  to  his  feet,  at 
the  same  time  rubbing  his  left  elbow  which  had  struck 
against  the  corner  of  a  piece  of  furniture,  in  his  fall. 
"  Scoundrel  !  You  brutal  scoundrel  !  "  he  growled, 
ferociously.  And  then,  retreating  a  step  :  "  Who  gave 
you  permission  to  come  in  here?"  he  added.  "Who 
are  you?  By  what  right  do  you  meddle  with  my 
afïairs?" 

"  By  the  right  that  every  honest  man  possesses  to 
chastise  a  cowardly  rascal." 

M.  Wilkie  shook  his  fist  at  the  baron.  "  You  are  a 
coward  yourself,"  he  retorted.  "  You  had  better  learn 
who  you  are  talking  to  !  You  must  mend  your  manners 
a  little,  you  old " 

The  word  he  uttered  was  so  vile  that  no  man  could 
fail  to  resent  it,  much  less  the  baron,  who  was  already 
frantic  with  passion.  His  faced  turned  as  purple  as 
if  he  were  stricken  with  apoplexy,  and  such  furious 
rage  gleamed  in  his  eyes  that  Madame  d'Argelès  was 
frightened.  She  feared  she  should  see  her  son  butch- 
ered before  her  very  eyes,  and  she  extended  her  arms 


128     BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

as  if  to  protect  him.  "  Jacques,"  she  said  beseechingly, 
"  Jacques  !  " 

This  was  the  name  which  was  indehbly  impressed 
upon  Wilkie's  memory — the  name  he  had  heard  when 
he  was  but  a  child.  Jacques — that  was  the  name  of 
the  man  who  had  brought  him  cakes  and  toys  in  the 
comfortable  rooms  where  he  had  remained  only  a  few 
days.  He  understood,  or  at  least  he  thought  he  under- 
stood, everything.  "  Ah,  ha  !  "  he  exclaimed,  with  a 
laugh  that  was  at  once  both  ferocious  and  idiotic. 
"  This  is  very  fine — monsieur  is  the  lover.  He  has  the 
say  here — he *' 

He  did  not  have  time  to  finish  his  sentence,  for  quick 
as  thought  the  baron  caught  him  by  the  collar,  lifted 
him  from  the  ground  with  irresistible  strength,  and 
flung  him  on  his  knees  at  Madame  d'Argelès's  feet, 
exclaiming  :  "  Ask  her  pardon,  you  vile  wretch  !     Ask 

her  pardon,  or "    "  Or  "  meant  the  baron's  clinched 

fist  descending  like  a  sledge-hammer  on  M.  Wilkie's 
head. 

The  worthy  youth  was  frightened — so  terribly  fright- 
ened that  his  teeth  chattered.     "  Pardon  !  "  he  faltered. 

"  Louder — speak  up  better  than  that.  Your  mother 
must  answer  you  !  " 

Alas  !  the  poor  woman  could  no  longer  hear.  She 
had  endured  so  much  during  the  past  hour  that  her 
strength  was  exhausted,  and  she  had  fallen  back  in 
her  arm-chair  in  a  deep  swoon.  The  baron  waited  for 
a  moment,  and  seeing  that  her  eyes  remained  obstinately 
closed,  he  exclaimed  :  "  This  is  your  work,  wretch  !  " 

And  lifting  him  again,  as  easily  as  if  he  had  been  a 
child,  he  set  him  on  his  feet,  saying  in  a  calmer  tone, 
but  in  one  that  admitted  of  no  reply  :  "  Arrange  your 
clothes  and  go." 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE     129 

This  advice  was  not  unnecessary.  Baron  Trigault 
had  a  powerful  hand  ;  and  M.  Wilkie's  attire  was  de- 
cidedly the  worse  for  the  encounter.  He  had  lost  his 
cravat,  his  shirt-front  was  crumpled  and  torn,  and  his 
waistcoat — one  of  those  that  open  to  the  waist  and  are 
fastened  by  a  single  button — hung  down  in  the  most 
dejected  manner.  He  obeyed  the  baron's  order  with- 
out a  word,  but  not  without  considerable  difficulty,  for 
his  hands  trembled  like  a  leaf.  When  he  had  finished, 
the  baron  exclaimed  :  "  Now  be  off  ;  and  never  set  foot 
here  again — understand  me — never  set  foot  here  again, 
never  Î  " 

M.  Wilkie  made  no  reply  until  he  reached  the  door 
leading  into  the  hall.  But  when  he  had  opened  it,  he 
suddenly  regained  his  powers  of  speech.  "  I'm  not 
afraid  of  you,"  he  cried,  with  frantic  violence.  "  You 
have  taken  advantage  of  your  superior  strength — you 
are  a  coward.  But  this  shall  not  end  here.  No  ! — you 
shall  answer  for  it.  I  shall  find  your  address,  and  to- 
morrow you  will  receive  a  visit  from  my  friends  M. 
Costard  and  M.  Serpillon.  I  am  the  insulted  party — 
and  I  choose  swords  !  " 

A  frightful  oath  from  the  baron  somewhat  hastened 
M.  Wilkie's  exit.  He  went  out  into  the  hall,  and  hold- 
ing the  door  open,  in  a  way  that  would  enable  him 
to  close  it  at  the  shortest  notice,  he  shouted  back,  so 
as  to  be  heard  by  all  the  servants  :  "  Yes  ;  I  will  have 
satisfaction.  I  will  not  stand  such  treatment.  Is  it  any 
fault  of  mine  that  ]\Iadame  d'Argeles  is  a  Chalusse, 
and  that  she  wishes  to  defraud  me  of  my  fortune.  To- 
morrow, I  call  you  all  to  witness,  there  will  be  a  lawyer 
here.  You  don't  frighten  me.  Here  is  my  card  !  " 
And  actually,  before  he  closed  the  door,  he  threw  one 
of  his  cards  into  the  middle  of  the  room. 


130     BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

The  baron  did  not  trouble  himself  to  pick  it  up;  his 
attention  was  devoted  to  Madame  d'Argelcs.  She  was 
lying  back  in  her  arm-chair,  white,  motionless  and  rigid, 
to  all  appearance  dead.  What  should  the  baron  do? 
He  did  not  wish  to  call  the  servants  ;  they  had  heard  too 
much  already — but  he  had  almost  decided  to  do  so, 
when  his  eyes  fell  upon  a  tiny  aquarium,  in  a  corner 
of  the  room.  He  dipped  his  handkerchief  in  it;  and 
alternately  bathed  Madame  d'Arc^elès's  temples  and 
chafed  her  hands.  It  was  not  long  before  the  cold 
water  revived  her.  She  trembled,  a  convulsive  shud- 
der shook  her  from  head  to  foot,  and  at  last  she 
opened  her  eyes,  murmuring  :  "  Wilkie  !  " 

"  I  have  sent  him  away,"  replied  the  baron. 
Poor  woman  !  with  returning  life  came  the  conscious- 
ness of  the  terrible  reality.  "  He  is  my  son  !  "  she 
moaned,  "  my  son,  my  Wilkie  !  "  Then  with  a  despair- 
ing gesture  she  pressed  her  hands  to  her  forehead  as  if 
to  calm  its  throbbings.  "  And  I  believed  that  my  sin 
was  expiated,"  she  pursued.  "  I  thought  I  had  been 
sufficiently  punished.  Fool  that  I  was  !  This  is  my 
chastisement,  Jacques.  Ah  !  women  like  me  have  no 
right  to  be  mothers  !  " 

A  burning  tear  coursed  down  the  baron's  cheek  ;  but 
he  concealed  his  emotion  as  well  as  he  could,  and  said, 
in  a  tone  of  assumed  gayety  :  "  Nonsense  !  Wilkie  is 
young — he  will  mend  his  ways  !  We  were  all  ridiculous 
when  we  were  twenty.  We  have  all  caused  our  mothers 
many  anxious  nights.  Time  will  set  everything  to 
rights,  and  put  some  ballast  in  this  young  madcap's 
brains.  Besides,  your  friend  Patterson  doesn't  seem  to 
me  quite  free  from  blame.  In  knowledge  of  books,  he 
may  have  been  unequalled  ;  but  as  a  guardian  for  youth, 
he  must  have  been  the  worst  of  fools.     After  keeping 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE     131 

your  son  on  a  short  allowance  for  years,  he  suddenly 
gorges  him  with  oats — or  I  should  say,  money — lets  him 
loose;  and  then  seems  surprised  because  the  boy  is 
guilty  of  acts  of  folly.  It  would  be  a  miracle  if  he  were 
not.  So  take  courage,  and  hope  for  the  best,  my  dear 
Lia." 

She  shook  her  head  despondingly.  "  Do  you  suppose 
that  my  heart  hasn't  pleaded  for  him  ?  "  she  said.  "  I 
am  his  mother  ;  I  can  never  cease  to  love  him,  whatever 
he  may  do.  Even  now  I  am  ready  to  give  a  drop  of 
blood  for  each  tear  I  can  save  him.  But  I  am  not  blind  ; 
I  have  read  his  nature.     Wilkie  has  no  heart." 

"  Ah  !  my  dear  friend,  how  do  you  know  what  shame- 
ful advice  he  may  have  received  before  coming  to 
you  ?  " 

Madame  d'Argelès  half  rose,  and  said,  in  an  agitated 
voice  :  "  What  !  you  try  to  make  me  believe  that  ?  '  Ad- 
vice !  '  Then  he  must  have  found  a  man  who  said  to 
him  :  '  Go  to  the  house  of  this  unfortunate  woman  who 
gave  you  birth,  and  order  her  to  publish  her  dishonor 
and  yours.  If  she  refuses,  insult  and  beat  her  !  '  You 
know,  even  better  than  I,  baron,  that  this  is  impossible. 
In  the  vilest  natures,  and  when  every  other  honorable 
feeling  has  been  lost,  love  for  one's  mother  survives. 
Even  convicts  deprive  themselves  of  their  wine,  and 
sell  their  rations,  in  order  to  send  a  trifle  now  and  then 
to  their  mothers — while  he " 

She  paused,  not  because  she  shrunk  from  what  she 
was  about  to  say,  but  because  she  was  exhausted  and 
out  of  breath.  She  rested  for  a  moment,  and  then  re- 
sumed in  a  calmer  tone  :  "  Besides,  the  person  who  sent 
him  here  had  counselled  coolness  and  prudence.  I  dis- 
covered this  at  once.  It  was  only  toward  the  close  of 
the  interview,  and  after  an  unexpected  revelation  from 


132     BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

me,  that  he  lost  all  control  over  himself.  The  thought 
that  he  would  lose  my  brother's  millions  crazed  him. 
Oh  !  that  fatal  and  accursed  money  !  Wilkie's  adviser 
wished  him  to  emj)loy  legal  means  to  obtain  an  acknowl- 
edgment of  his  parentage;  and  he  had  copied  from  the 
Code  a  clause  which  is  applicable  to  this  case.  By  this 
one  circumstance  I  am  convinced  that  his  adviser  is  a 
man  of  experience  in  such  matters — in  other  words,  the 
business  agent " 

"  What  business  agent?  "  inquired  the  baron. 

"  The  person  who  called  here  the  other  day,  M. 
Isidore  Fortunat.  Ah  !  why  didn't  I  not  bribe  him  to 
hold  his  peace  ?  " 

The  baron  had  entirely  forgotten  the  existence  of 
Victor  Chupin's  honorable  employer.  "  You  are  mis- 
taken, Lia,"  he  replied.  "  M.  Fortunat  has  had  no 
hand  in  this." 

"  Then  who  could  have  betrayed  my  secret?  " 

"  Why,  your  former  ally,  the  rascal  for  whose  sake 
you  allowed  Pascal  Ferailleur  to  be  sacrificed — the  Vis- 
count de  Coralth  !  " 

The  bare  supposition  of  such  treachery  on  the  vis- 
count's part  brought  a  fîush  of  indignant  anger  to 
Madame  d'Argelès's  cheek.  "  Ah  !  if  I  thought  that  !  " 
she  exclaimed.  And  then,  remembering  what  reasons 
the  baron  had  for  hating  M.  de  Coralth,  she  murmured  : 
"  No  !  Your  animosity  misleads  you — he  wouldn't 
dare  !  " 

The  baron  read  her  thoughts.  "  So  you  are  per- 
suaded that  it  is  personal  vengeance  that  I  am  pursu- 
ing?" said  he.  "You  think  that  fear  of  ridicule  and 
public  odium  prevents  me  from  striking  M.  de  Coralth 
in  my  own  name,  and  that  I  am  endeavoring  to  find 
some  other  excuse  to  crush  him.    This  might  have  been 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE     133 

so  once  ;  but  it  is  not  the  case  now.  When  I  promised 
M.  Ferailleur  to  do  all  in  my  power  to  save  the  young 
girl  he  loves,  Mademoiselle  Marguerite,  my  wife's 
daughter,  I  renounced  all  thought  of  self,  all  my  former 
plans.  And  why  should  you  doubt  Coralth's  treachery  ? 
You,  yourself,  promised  me  to  unmask  him.  If  he  has 
betrayed  you,  my  poor  Lia,  he  has  only  been  a  little 
in  advance  of  you." 

She  hung  her  head  and  made  no  reply.  She  had  for- 
gotten  this. 

"  Besides,"  continued  the  baron,  "  you  ought  to  know 
that  when  I  make  such  a  statement  I  have  some  better 
foundation  for  it  than  mere  conjecture.  It  was  to  some 
purpose  that  I  watched  M.  de  Coralth  during  your 
absence.  When  the  servant  handed  you  that  card  he 
turned  extremely  pale.  Why?  Because  he  knew  whose 
card  it  was.  After  you  left  the  room  his  hands  trem- 
bled like  leaves,  and  his  mind  was  no  longer  occupied 
with  the  game.  He — who  is  usually  such  a  cautious 
player — risked  his  money  recklessly.  When  the  cards 
came  to  him  he  did  still  worse  ;  and  though  luck 
favored  him,  he  made  the  strangest  blunders,  and  lost. 
His  agitation  and  preoccupation  were  so  marked  as  to 
attract  attention;  and  one  acquaintance  laughingly  in- 
quired if  he  were  ill,  while  another  jestingly  remarked 
that  he  had  dined  and  wined  a  little  too  much.  The 
traitor  was  evidently  on  coals  of  fire.  I  could  see  the 
perspiration  on  his  forehead,  and  each  time  the  door 
opened  or  shut,  he  changed  color,  as  if  he  expected  to 
see  you  and  Wilkie  enter.  A  dozen  times  I  surprised 
him  listening  eagerly,  as  if  by  dint  of  attention,  or  by 
the  magnetic  force  of  his  will,  he  hoped  to  hear  what 
you  and  your  son  were  saying.  With  a  single  word  I 
could  have  wrung  a  confession  from  him." 


134    BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

This  explanation  was  so  plausible  that  ^Madame 
d'Argelès  felt  half  convinced.  "  s\h  !  if  you  had  only 
spoken  that  word  !  "  she  murmured.  The  baron  smiled 
a  crafty  and  malicious  smile,  which  would  have  chilled 
M.  de  Coralth's  very  blood  if  he  had  chanced  to  see  it, 
"  I  am  not  so  stupid  !  "  he  replied.  "  We  mustn't 
frighten  the  fish  till  we  are  quite  ready.  Our  net  is 
the  Chalusse  estate,  and  Coralth  and  Valorsay  will 
enter  it  of  their  own  accord.  It  is  not  my  plan,  but 
M.  Ferailleur's.  There's  a  man  for  you  !  and  if  Made- 
moiselle Marguerite  is  worthy  of  him  they  will  make  a 
noble  pair.  Without  suspecting  it,  your  son  has  per- 
haps rendered  us  an  important  service  this  evening — " 

"  Alas  !  "  faltered  Madame  d'Argelès,  "  I  am  none 
the  less  ruined — the  name  of  Chalusse  is  none  the  less 
dishonored  !  " 

She  wanted  to  return  to  the  drawing-room;  but  she 
was  compelled  to  relinquish  this  idea.  The  expression 
of  her  face  betrayed  too  plainly  the  terrible  ordeal  she 
had  passed  through.  The  servants  had  heard  M. 
Wilkie's  parting  words  ;  and  news  of  this  sort  flies 
about  with  the  rapidity  of  lightning.  That  very  night, 
indeed,  it  was  currently  reported  at  the  clubs  that  there 
would  be  no  more  card-playing  at  the  d'Argelès  estab- 
lishment, as  that  lady  was  a  Chalusse,  and  consequently 
the  aunt  of  the  beautiful  young  girl  whom  M.  and 
Madame  de  Fondège  had  taken  under  their  protection. 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE     135 


VIIL 

Unusual  strength  of  character,  unbounded  confidence 
in  one's  own  energy,  with  thorough  contempt  of  dan- 
ger, and  an  invincible  determination  to  triumph  or 
perish,  are  all  required  of  the  person  who,  like  Made- 
moiselle Marguerite,  intrusts  herself  to  the  care  of 
strangers — worse  yet,  to  tlie  care  of  actual  enemies.  It 
is  no  small  matter  to  place  yourself  in  the  power  of 
smooth-tongued  hypocrites  and  impostors,  who  are 
anxious  for  your  ruin,  and  whom  you  know  to  be 
capable  of  anything.  And  the  task  is  a  mighty  one — 
to  brave  unknown  dangers,  perilous  seductions,  perfid- 
ious counsels,  and  perhaps  even  violence,  at  the  same 
time  retaining  a  calm  eye  and  smiling  lips.  Yet  such 
was  the  heroism  that  Marguerite,  although  scarcely 
twenty,  displayed  when  she  left  the  Hôtel  de  Chalusse 
to  accept  the  hospitality  of  the  Fondège  family.  And, 
to  crown  all,  she  took  Madame  Léon  with  her — 
Madame  Léon,  whom  she  knew  to  be  the  Marquis  de 
Valorsay's  spy. 

But,  brave  as  she  was,  when  the  moment  of  depart- 
ure came  her  heart  almost  failed  her.  There  was 
despair  in  the  parting  glance  she  cast  upon  the  princely 
mansion  and  the  familiar  faces  of  the  servants.  And 
there  was  no  one  to  encourage  or  sustain  her.  Ah, 
yes  !  standing  at  a  window  on  the  second  floor,  with  his 
forehead  pressed  close  against  the  pane  of  glass,  she 
saw  the  only  friend  she  had  in  the  world — the  old  mag- 
istrate who  had  defended,  encouraged,  and  sustained 
her — the  man  who  had  promised  her  his  assistance  and 
advice,  and  prophesied  ultimate  success. 


136    BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

"Shall  I  be  a  coward?"  she  thought;  "shall  I  be 
unworthy  of  Pascal  ?  "  And  she  resolutely  entered  the 
carriage,  mentally  exclaiming  :  "  The  die  is  cast  !  " 

The  General  insisted  that  she  should  take  a  place 
beside  Madame  de  Fondège  on  the  back  seat  ;  while  he 
found  a  place  next  to  Madame  Léon  on  the  seat  facing 
them.  The  drive  was  a  silent  and  tedious  one.  The 
night  was  coming  on  ;  it  was  a  time  when  all  Paris  was 
on  the  move,  and  the  carriage  was  delayed  at  each 
street  corner  by  a  crowd  of  passing  vehicles.  The  con- 
versation was  solely  kept  alive  by  the  exertions  of 
Madame  de  Fondège,  whose  shrill  voice  rose  above  the 
rumble  of  the  wheels,  as  she  chronicled  the  virtues  of 
the  late  Count  de  Chalusse,  and  congratulated  Made- 
moiselle Marguerite  on  the  wisdom  of  her  decision. 
Her  remarks  were  of  a  commonplace  description,  and 
yet  each  word  she  uttered  evinced  intense  satisfaction, 
almost  delight,  as  if  she  had  won  some  unexpected 
victory.  Occasionally,  the  General  leaned  from  the 
carriage  window  to  see  if  the  vehicle  laden  with  Made- 
moiselle Marguerite's  trunks  was  following  them,  but 
he  said  nothing. 

At  last  they  reached  his  residence  in  the  Rue  Pigalle. 
He  alighted  first,  offered  his  hand  successively  to  his 
wife.  Mademoiselle  Marguerite,  and  Madame  Léon, 
and  motioned  the  coachman  to  drive  away. 

But  the  man  did  not  stir.  "  Pardon — excuse  me, 
monsieur,"  he  said,  "  but  my  employers  bade — request- 
ed me " 

"What?" 

"  To  ask  you — ^you  know,  for  the  fare — thirty-five 
francs — not  counting  the  little  gratuity." 

"  Very  well  ! — I  will  pay  you  to-morrow." 

"  Excuse  me,  monsieur;  but  if  it  is  all  the  same  to 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE     137 

you,  would  you  do  so  this  evening?  My  employer  said 
that  the  bill  had  been  standing  a  long  time  already." 

"  What,  scoundrel  !  " 

But  Madame  de  Fondège,  who  was  on  the  point  of 
entering  the  house,  suddenly  stepped  back,  and  draw- 
ing out  her  pocketbook,  exclaimed  :  "  That's  enough  ! 
Here  are  thirty-five  francs." 

The  man  went  to  his  carriage  lamp  to  count  the 
money,  and  seeing  that  he  had  the  exact  amount — 
"And  my  gratuity?"  he  asked. 

"  I  give  none  to  insolent  people,"  replied  the  General. 

"  You  should  take  a  cab  if  you  haven't  money  enough 
to  pay  for  coaches,"  replied  the  driver  with  an  oath. 
"  I'll  be  even  with  you  yet." 

Marguerite  heard  no  more,  for  Madame  de  Fondège 
caught  her  by  the  arm  and  hurried  her  up  the  stair- 
case, saying  :  "  Quick  !  we  must  make  haste.  Your 
baggage  is  here  already,  and  we  must  see  if  the  rooms 
I  intended  for  you — for  you  and  your  companion — suit 
you." 

When  Marguerite  reached  the  second  floor,  Madame 
de  Fondège  hunted  in  her  pocket  for  her  latch-key. 
Not  finding  it,  she  rang.  A  tall  man-servant  of  impu- 
dent appearance  and  arrayed  in  a  glaring  livery  opened 
the  door,  carrying  an  old  battered  iron  candlestick,  in 
which  a  tiny  scrap  of  candle  was  glaring  and  flickering. 
"  What  !  "  exclaimed  Madame  de  Fondège,  "  the  recep- 
tion-room not  lighted  yet  ?  This  is  scandalous  !  What 
have  you  been  doing  in  my  absence?  Come,  make 
haste.  Light  the  lamp.  Tell  the  cook  that  I  have  some 
guests  to  dine  with  me.  Call  my  maid.  See  that  M. 
Gustave's  room  is  in  order.  Go  down  and  see  if 
the  General  doesn't  need    your  assistance  about    the 


138    BARON   TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

Finding  it  difficult  to  choose  between  so  many  con- 
tradictory orders,  the  servant  did  not  choose  at  all. 
He  placed  his  rusty  candlestick  on  one  of  the  side-tables 
in  the  reception-room,  and  gravely,  without  saying  a 
single  word,  went  out  into  the  passage  leading  to  the 
kitchen.  "  Evariste  !  "  cried  Madame  de  Fondège, 
crimson  with  anger,  "  Evariste,  you  insolent  fellow  !  " 

As  he  deigned  no  reply,  she  rushed  out  in  pursuit  of 
him.  And  soon  the  sound  of  a  violent  altercation 
arose;  the  servant  lavishing  insults  upon  his  mistress,, 
and  she  unable  to  find  any  response,  save,  "  I  dismiss 
you  ;  you  are  an  insolent  scamp — I  dismiss  you." 

Madame  Léon,  who  was  standing  near  Mademoiselle 
Marguerite  in  the  reception-room,  seemed  greatly 
amused.  "  This  is  a  strange  household,"  said  she. 
"  A  fine  beginning,  upon  my  word." 

But  the  worthy  housekeeper  was  the  last  person  on 
earth  to  whom  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  wished  to 
reveal  her  thoughts.  "  Hush,  Léon,"  she  replied.  "  We 
are  the  cause  of  all  this  disturbance,  and  I  am  very 
sorry  for  it." 

The  retort  that  rose  to  the  housekeeper's  lips  was 
checked  by  the  return  of  Madame  de  Fondège,  followed 
by  a  servant-girl  with  a  turn-up  nose,  a  pert  manner, 
and  who  carried  a  lighted  candle  in  her  hand. 

"  How  can  I  apologize,  madame,"  began  Mademoi- 
selle Marguerite,  "  for  all  the  trouble  I  am  giving 
you?" 

"  Ah  !  my  dear  child,  I've  never  been  so  happy. 
Come,  come,  and  see  your  room."  And  while  they 
crossed  several  scantily-furnished  apartment^,  Madame 
de  Fondège  continued  :  "  It  is  I  who  ought  to  apologize 
to  you.  I  fear  you  will  pine  for  the  splendors  of  the 
Hôtel  de  Chalusse.    We  are  not  millionaires  like  your 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE     139 

poor  father.  We  have  only  a  modest  competence,  no 
more.    But  here  we  are  !  " 

The  maid  had  opened  a  door,  and  Mademoiselle  Mar- 
guerite entered  a  good-sized  room  lighted  by  two  win- 
dows, hung  with  soiled  wall  paper,  and  adorned  with 
chintz  curtains,  from  which  the  sun  had  extracted  most 
of  the  coloring.  Everything  was  in  disorder  here,  and, 
in  fact,  the  whole  room  was  extremely  dirty.  The  bed 
was  not  made,  the  washstand  was  dirty,  some  woollen 
stockings  were  hanging  over  the  side  of  the  rumpled 
bed,  and  on  the  mantel-shelf  stood  an  ancient  clock,  an 
empty  beer  bottle,  and  some  glasses.  On  the  floor,  on 
the  furniture,  in  the  corners,  everywhere  in  fact,  stumps 
of  cigars  were  scattered  in  profusion,  as  if  they  had 
positively  rained  down. 

"  What  !  "  gasped  Madame  de  Fondège,  "  you 
haven't  put  this  room  in  order,  Justine?" 

"  Indeed,  madame,  I  haven't  had  time." 

"  But  it's  more  than  a  month  since  M.  Gustave  slept 
here?" 

"  I  know  it  ;  but  madame  must  remember  that  I  have 
been  very  much  hurried  this  last  month,  having  to  do 
all  the  washing  and  ironing  since  the  laundress " 

"  That's  sufficient,"  interrupted  Madame  de  Fondège. 
And  turning  to  Marguerite,  she  said  :  "  You  will,  I  am 
sure,  excuse  this  disorder,  my  dear  child.  By  this  time 
to-morrow  the  room  shall  be  transformed  into  one  of 
those  dainty  nests  of  muslin  and  flowers  which  young 
girls  delight  in." 

Connected  with  this  apartment,  which  was  known  to 
the  household  as  the  lieutenant's  room,  there  was  a 
much  smaller  chamber  lighted  only  by  a  single  win- 
dow, and  originally  intended  for  a  dressing-room.  It 
had  two  doors,  one  of  them  communicating  with  Mar- 


140     BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

guerite's  room,  and  the  other  with  the  passage  ;  and  it 
was  now  offered  to  Madame  Léon,  who  on  comparing 
these  quarters  with  the  spacious  suite  of  rooms  she  had 
occupied  at  the  Hôtel  de  Chalusse,  had  considerable 
difficulty  in  repressing  a  grimace.  Still  she  did  not 
hesitate  nor  even  murmur.  M.  de  Valorsay's  orders 
bound  her  to  Marguerite,  and  she  deemed  it  fortunate 
that  she  was  allowed  to  follow  her.  And  whether  the 
marquis  succeeded  or  not,  he  had  promised  her  a  suffi- 
ciently liberal  reward  to  compensate  for  all  personal 
discomfort.  So,  in  the  sweetest  of  voices,  and  with  a 
feigned  humility  of  manner,  she  declared  this  little 
room  to  be  even  much  too  good  for  a  poor  widow  whose 
misfortunes  had  compelled  her  to  abdicate  her  position 
in  society. 

The  attentions  which  M.  and  Madame  de  Fondège 
showed  her  contributed  not  a  little  to  her  resignation. 
Without  knowing  exactly  what  the  General  and  his 
wife  expected  from  Mademoiselle  Marguerite,  she  was 
shrewd  enough  to  divine  that  they  hoped  to  gain  some 
important  advantage.  Now  her  "  dear  child  "  had  de- 
clared her  to  be  a  trusted  friend,  who  was  indispensable 
to  her  existence  and  comfort.  "  So  these  people  will 
pay  assiduous  court  to  me,"  she  thought.  And  being 
quite  ready  to  play  a  double  part  as  the  spy  of  the 
Marquis  de  Valorsay,  and  the  Fondège  family,  and 
quite  willing  to  espouse  the  latter's  cause  should  that 
prove  to  be  the  more  remunerative  course,  she  saw  a 
long  series  of  polite  attentions  and  gifts  before  her. 

That  very  evening  her  prophecies  were  realized  ;  and 
she  received  a  proof  of  consideration  which  positively 
delighted  her.  It  was  decided  that  she  should  take  her 
meals  at  the  family  table,  a  thing  which  had  never 
happened   at   the   Hôtel   de   Chalusse.      Mademoiselle 


BARON   TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE     141 

Marguerite  raised  a  few  objections,  which  Madame 
Léon  answered  with  a  venomous  look,  but  Madame  de 
Fondège  insisted  upon  the  arrangement,  -not  under- 
standing, she  said,  graciously,  why  they  need  deprive 
themselves  of  the  society  of  such  an  agreeable  and  dis- 
tinguished person.  Madame  Léon  in  no  wise  doubted 
but  this  favor  was  due  to  her  merit  alone,  but  Made- 
moiselle Marguerite,  who  was  more  discerning,  saw 
that  their  hostess  was  really  furious  at  the  idea,  but 
was  compelled  to  submit  to  it  by  the  imperious  necessity 
of  preventing  Madame  Léon  from  coming  in  contact 
with  the  servants,  who  might  make  some  decidedly 
compromising  disclosures.  For  there  were  evidently 
many  little  mysteries  and  make-shifts  to  be  concealed 
in  this  household.  For  instance,  while  the  servants 
were  carrying  the  luggage  upstairs,  Marguerite  dis- 
covered Madame  de  Fondège  and  her  maid  in  close 
consultation,  whispering  with  that  volubility  which  be- 
trays an  unexpected  and  pressing  perplexity.  What 
were  they  talking  about?  She  listened  without  any 
compunctions  of  conscience,  and  the  words  "  a  pair  of 
sheets,"  repeated  again  and  again,  furnished  her  with 
abundant  food  for  reflection.  "  Is  it  possible,"  she 
thought,  "  that  they  have  no  sheets  to  give  us  ?  " 

It  did  not  take  her  long  to  discover  the  maid's  opin- 
ion of  the  establishment  in  which  she  served  ;  for  while 
she  brandished  her  broom  and  duster,  this  girl,  exas- 
perated undoubtedly  by  the  increase  of  work  she  saw  in 
store  for  her,  growled  and  cursed  the  old  barrack  where 
one  was  worked  to  death,  where  one  never  had  enough 
to  eat,  and  where  the  wages  were  always  in  arrears. 
Mademoiselle  Marguerite  was  doing  her  best  to  aid  the 
maid,  who  was  greatly  surprised  to  find  this  handsome, 
queenly  young  lady  so  obliging,  when  Evariste,  the 


142     BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

same  who  had  received  warning  an  hour  before,  made 
his  appearance,  and  announced  in  an  insolent  tone  that 
"  Madame  la  Comtesse  was  served." 

For  Madame  de  Fondège  exacted  this  title.  She  had 
improvised  it,  as  her  husband  had  improvised  his  title 
of  General,  and  without  much  more  difficulty.  By  a 
search  in  the  family  archives  she  had  discovered — so 
she  declared  to  her  intimate  friends — that  she  was  the 
descendant  of  a  noble  family,  and  that  one  of  her 
ancestors  had  held  a  most  important  position  at  the 
court  of  Francis  I.  or  of  Louis  XII.  Indeed,  she  some- 
times confounded  them.  However,  people  who  had  not 
known  her  father,  the  wood  merchant,  saw  nothing  im- 
possible in  the  statements. 

Evariste  was  dressed  as  a  butler  should  be  dressed 
when  he  announces  dinner  to  a  person  of  rank.  In  the 
daytime  when  he  discharged  the  duties  of  footman,  he 
was  gorgeous  in  gold  lace;  but  in  the  evening,  he  ar- 
rayed himself  in  severe  black,  such  as  is  appropriate  to 
the  butler  of  an  aristocratic  household.  Immediately 
after  his  announcement  everybody  repaired  to  the 
sumptuous  dining-room  which,  with  its  huge  side- 
boards, loaded  with  silver  and  rare  china,  looked  not 
unlike  a  museum.  Such  was  the  display,  indeed,  that 
when  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  took  a  seat  at  the  table, 
between  the  General  and  his  wife,  and  opposite 
Madame  Léon,  she  asked  herself  if  she  had  not  been  the 
victim  of  that  dangerous  optical  delusion  known  as 
prejudice.  She  noticed  that  the  supply  of  knives  and 
forks  was  rather  scanty;  but  many  economical  house- 
wives keep  most  of  their  silver  under  lock  and  key; 
besides  the  china  was  very  handsome  and  marked  with 
the  General's  monogram,  surmounted  by  his  wife's 
coronet. 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE     143 

However,  the  dinner  was  badly  cooked  and  poorly- 
served.  One  might  have  supposed  it  to  be  a  scullery 
maid's  first  attempt.  Still  the  General  devoured  it  with 
delight.  He  partook  ravenously  of  every  dish,  a  flush 
rose  to  his  cheeks,  and  an  expression  of  profound  satis- 
faction was  visible  upon  his  countenance.  "  From  this," 
thought  Mademoiselle  Marguerite,  "  I  must  infer  that 
he  usually  goes  hungry,  and  that  this  seems  a  positive 
feast  to  him,"  In  fact,  he  seemed  bubbling  over  with 
contentment.  He  twirled  his  mustaches  à  la  Victor 
Emmanuel,  and  rolled  his  "  r,"  as  he  said,  "  Sacr-r-r- 
r-r-e  bleu  !  "  even  more  ferociously  than  usual.  It  was 
only  by  a  powerful  effort  that  he  restrained  himself 
from  indulging  in  various  witticisms  which  would  have 
been  most  unseemly  in  the  presence  of  a  poor  girl  who 
had  just  lost  her  father  and  all  her  hopes  of  fortune. 
But  he  did  forget  himself  so  much  as  to  say  that  the 
drive  to  the  cemetery  had  whetted  his  appetite,  and  to 
address  his  wife  as  Madame  Range-à-bord,  a  title 
which  had  been  bestowed  upon  her  by  a  sailor 
brother. 

Crimson  with  anger  to  the  very  roots  of  her  coarse, 
sandy  hair — amazed  to  see  her  husband  deport  himself 
in  this  style,  and  almost  suffocated  by  the  necessity  of 
restraining  her  wrath,  Madame  de  Fondège  was  heroic 
enough  to  smile,  though  her  eyes  flashed  ominously. 
But  the  General  was  not  at  all  dismayed.  On  the  con- 
trary, he  cared  so  little  for  his  wife's  displeasure  that, 
when  the  dessert  was  served,  he  turned  to  the  servant, 
and,  with  a  wink  that  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  noticed, 
"  Evariste,"  he  ordered,  "  go  to  the  wine-cellar,  and 
bring  me  a  bottle  of  old  Bordeaux." 

The  valet,  who  had  just  received  a  week's  notice, 
was  only  too  glad  of  an  opportunity  for  revenge.     So 


144     BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

with  a  malicious  smile,  and  in  a  drawling  tone,  he  re- 
plied :  "  Then  monsieur  must  give  me  the  money.  Mon- 
sieur knows  very  well  that  neither  the  grocer  nor  the 
wine-merchant  will  trust  him  any  longer." 

M.  de  Fondège  rose  from  the  table,  looking  very 
pale;  but  before  he  had  time  to  utter  a  word,  his  wife 
came  to  the  rescue.  "  You  know,  my  dear,  that  I 
don't  trust  the  key  of  my  cellar  to  this  lad.  Evariste, 
call  Justine." 

The  pert-looking  chambermaid  appeared,  and  her 
mistress  told  her  where  she  would  find  the  key  of  the 
famous  cellar.  About  a  quarter  of  an  hour  afterward, 
one  of  those  bottles  which  grocers  and  wine-merchants 
prepare  for  the  benefit  of  credulous  customers  was 
brought  in — a  bottle  duly  covered  with  dust  and  mould 
to  give  it  a  venerable  appearance,  and  festooned  with 
cobwebs,  such  as  the  urchins  of  Paris  collect  and  sell 
at  from  fifteen  sous  to  two  francs  a  pound,  according 
to  quality.  But  the  Bordeaux  did  not  restore  the  Gen- 
eral's equanimity.  He  was  silent  and  subdued  ;  and  his 
relief  was  evident  when,  after  the  coffee  had  been 
served,  his  wife  exclaimed  :  "  We  won't  keep  you  from 
your  club,  my  dear.  I  want  a  chat  with  our  dear 
child." 

Since  she  dismissed  the  General  so  unceremoniously, 
Madame  de  Fondège  evidently  wished  for  a  tête-à-tête 
with  Mademoiselle  Marguerite.  At  least  Madame 
Léon  thought  so,  or  feigned  to  think  so,  and  addressing 
the  young  girl,  she  said  :  "  I  shall  be  obliged  to  leave 
you  for  a  couple  of  hours,  my  dear  young  lady.  My 
relatives  would  never  forgive  me  if  I  did  not  inform 
them  of  my  change  of  residence." 

This  was  the  first  time  since  she  had  been  engaged 
by  the  Count  de  Chalusse,  that  the  estimable  "  com- 


BARON   TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE     145 

panion  "  had  ever  made  any  direct  allusion  to  her  rela- 
tives, and  what  is  more,  to  relatives  residing  in  Paris. 
She  had  previously  only  spoken  of  them  in  general 
terms,  giving  people  to  understand  that  her  relatives 
had  not  been  unfortunate  like  herself — that  they  still 
retained  their  exalted  rank,  though  she  had  fallen,  and 
that  she  found  it  difficult  to  decline  the  favors  they 
longed  to  heap  upon  her. 

However,  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  evinced  no  sur- 
prise. "  Go  at  once  and  inform  your  relatives,  my  dear 
Léon,"  she  said,  without  a  shade  of  sarcasm  in  her 
manner.  "  I  hope  they  won't  be  offended  by  your  devo- 
tion to  me."  But  in  her  secret  heart,  she  thought  : 
"  This  hypocrite  is  going  to  report  to  the  Marquis  de 
Valorsay,  and  these  relatives  of  hers  will  furnish  her 
with  excuses  for  future  visits  to  him." 

The  General  went  ofï,  the  servants  began  to  clear  the 
table,  and  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  followed  her 
hostess  to  the  drawing-room.  It  was  a  lofty  and 
spacious  apartment,  lighted  by  three  windows,  and  even 
more  sumptuous  in  its  appointments  than  the  dining- 
room.  Furniture,  carpets,  and  hangings,  were  all  in 
rather  poor  taste,  perhaps,  but  costly,  very  costly.  As 
the  evening  was  a  cold  one,  Madame  de  Fondège  or- 
dered the  fire  to  be  lighted.  She  seated  herself  on  a 
sofa  near  the  mantelpiece,  and  when  Alademoiselle  Mar- 
guerite had  taken  a  chair  opposite  her,  she  began, 
"  Now,  my  dear  child,  let  us  have  a  quiet  talk." 

Mademoiselle  Marguerite  expected  some  important 
communication,  so  that  she  was  not  a  little  surprised 
when  Madame  de  Fondège  resumed  :  "  Have  you 
thought  about  your  mourning?" 

"  About  my  mourning,  madame  ?  " 

"  Yes.     I  mean,  have  you  decided  what  dresses  you 


146    BARON   TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

will  purchase?    It  is  an  important  matter,  my  dear — 
more  important  than  you  suppose.     They  are  making 
costumes  entirely  of  crêpe  now,  puffed  and  plaited,  and 
extremely  stylish.    I  saw  one  that  would  suit  you  well. 
You  may  think  that  a  costume  for  deep  mourning  made 
with  puffs  would  be  a  trifle  loud,  but  that  depends  upon 
tastes.     The  Duchess  de  Veljo  wore  one  only  eleven 
days  after  her  husband's  death;  and  she  allowed  some 
of  her  hair,  which  is  superb,  to  fall  over  her  shoulders, 
à  la  pleureuse,  and  the  effect  was  extremely  touching." 
Was  Madame  de  Fondège  speaking  sincerely?    There 
could  be  no  doubt  of  it.    Her  features,  which  had  been 
distorted  with  anger  when  the  General  took  it  into  his 
head  to  order  the  bottle  of  Bordeaux,  had  regained  their 
usual  placidity  of  expression,  and  had  even  brightened 
a  little.     "  I  am  entirely  at  your  service,  my  dear,  if 
you  wish  any  shopping  done,"  she  continued.    "  And  if 
you  are  not  quite  pleased  with  your  dressmaker,  I  will 
take  you  to  mine,  who  works  like  an  angel.     But  how 
absurd  I  am.    You  will  of  course  employ  Van  Klopen. 
I  go  to  him  occasionally  myself,  but  only  on  great  occa- 
sions.    Between  you  and  me,  I  think  him  a  trifle  too 
high  in  his  charges." 

Mademoiselle  Marguerite  could  scarcely  repress  a 
smile.  "  I  must  confess,  madame,  that  from  my  in- 
fancy I  have  been  in  the  habit  of  making  almost  all 
my  dresses  myself." 

The  General's  wife  raised  her  eyes  to  Heaven  in  real 
or  feigned  astonishment.  "  Yourself  !  "  she  repeated 
four  or  five  times,  as  if  to  make  sure  that  she  had  heard 
aright.  "  Yourself  !  That  is  incomprehensible  !  You, 
the  daughter  of  a  man  who  possessed  an  income  of  five 
or  six  hundred  thousand  francs  a  year  !  Still  I  know 
that  poor  M.  de  Chalusse,  though  unquestionably  a  very 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE     147 

worthy  and  excellent  man,  was  peculiar  in  some  of  his 
ideas." 

"  Excuse  me,  madame.  What  I  did,  I  did  for  my 
own  pleasure." 

But  this  assertion  exceeded  Madame  de  Fondège's 
powers  of  comprehension.  "  Impossible  !  "  she  mur- 
mured, "  impossible  !  But,  my  poor  child,  what  did  you 
do  for  fashions — for  patterns  ?  " 

The  immense  importance  she  attached  to  the  matter 
was  so  manifest  that  Marguerite  could  not  refrain  from 
smiling.  "  I  was  probably  not  a  very  close  follower  of 
the  fashions,"  she  replied.  "  The  dress  that  I  am 
wearing  now ." 

"  Is  very  pretty,  my  child,  and  it  becomes  you  ex- 
tremely; that's  the  truth.  Only,  to  be  frank,  I  must 
confess  that  this  style  is  no  longer  worn — no — not  at 
all.  You  must  have  your  new  dresses  made  in  quite  a 
different  way." 

"  But  I  already  have  more  dresses  than  I  need, 
madame." 

"What!  black  dresses?" 

"  I  seldom  wear  anything  but  black." 

Evidently  her  hostess  had  never  heard  anything  like 
this  before.  "  Oh  !  all  right,"  said  she,  "these  dresses 
will  doubtless  do  very  well  for  your  first  months  of 
mourning — but  afterward?  Do  you  suppose,  my  poor 
dear,  that  I'm  going  to  allow  you  to  shut  yourself  up 
as  you  did  at  the  Hôtel  de  Chalusse  ?  Good  heavens  ! 
how  dull  it  must  have  been  for  you,  alone  in  that  big 
house,  without  society  or  friends." 

A  tear  fell  from  Marguerite's  long  lashes.  "  I  was 
very  happy  there,  madame,"  she  murmured. 

"  You  think  so  ;  but  you  will  change  your  mind. 
Wlien    one    has     never    tasted     real     pleasure,     one 


148    BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

cannot  realize  how  gloomy  one's  life  really  is.  No 
doubt,  you  were  very  unhappy  alone  with  M.  de 
Chalussc." 

"  Oh  !  madame " 

"  Tut  !  tut  !  my  dear,  I  know  what  I  am  talking  about. 
Wait  until  you  have  been  introduced  into  society  before 
you  boast  of  the  charms  of  solitude.  Poor  dear  !  I 
doubt  if  you  have  ever  attended  a  ball  in  your  whole 
life.  No  !  I  was  sure  of  it,  and  you  are  twenty  !  For- 
tunately, I  am  here.  I  will  take  your  mother's  place, 
and  we  will  make  up  for  lost  time  !  Beautiful  as  you 
are,  my  child — for  you  are  divinely  beautiful — you  will 
reign  as  a  queen  wherever  you  appear.  Doesn't  that 
thought  make  that  cold  little  heart  of  yours  throb  more 
quickly  ?  Ah  !  fêtes  and  music,  wonderful  toilettes  and 
the  flashing  of  diamonds,  the  admiration  of  gentlemen, 
the  envy  of  rivals,  the  consciousness  of  one's  own 
beauty,  are  these  delights  not  enough  to  fill  any  woman's 
life?  It  is  intoxication,  perhaps,  but  an  intoxication 
which  is  happiness." 

Was  she  sincere,  or  did  she  hope  to  dazzle  this  lonely 
girl,  and  then  rule  her  through  the  tastes  she  might  suc- 
ceed in  giving  her?  As  is  not  unfrequently  the  case 
with  callous  natures,  Madame  de  Fondège  was  a  com- 
pound of  frankness  and  cunning.  What  she  was  saying 
now  she  really  meant;  and  as  it  was  to  her  interest  to 
say  it,  she  urged  her  opinions  boldly  and  even  elo- 
quently. Twenty-four  hours  earlier,  proud  and  truth- 
ful Marguerite  would  have  silenced  her  at  once.  She 
would  have  told  her  that  such  pleasures  could  never 
have  any  charm  for  her,  and  that  she  felt  only  scorn 
and  disgust  for  such  worthless  aims  and  sordid  desires. 
But  having  resolved  to  appear  a  dupe,  she  concealed  her 
real  feelings  under  an  air  of  surprise,  and  was  aston- 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE     149 

ished  and  even  ashamed  to  find  that  she  could  dissemble 
so  well. 

"  Besides,"  continued  Madame  de  Fondège,  "  a  mar- 
riageable young  girl  should  never  shut  herself  up  like 
a  nun.  She  will  never  find  a  husband  if  she  remains 
at  home — and  she  must  marry.  Indeed,  marriage  is  a 
sensible  woman's  only  object  in  life,  since  it  is  her 
emancipation." 

Was  Madame  de  Fondège  going  to  plead  her  son's 
cause?  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  almost  believed  it — 
but  the  lady  was  too  shrewd  for  that.  She  took  good 
care  not  to  mention  as  much  as  Lieutenant  Gustave's 
name. 

"  The  season  will  certainly  be  unusually  brilliant," 
she  said,  "  and  it  will  begin  very  early.  On  the  fifth 
of  November,  the  Countess  de  Commarin  will  give  a 
superb  fete;  all  Paris  will  be  there.  On  the  seventh, 
there  will  be  a  ball  at  the  house  of  the  Viscountess  de 
Bois  d'Ardon.  On  the  eleventh,  there  will  be  a  concert, 
followed  by  a  ball,  at  the  superb  mansion  of  the  Bar- 
oness Trigault — you  know — the  wife  of  that  strange 
man  who  spends  all  his  time  in  playing  cards." 

"  This  is  the  first  time  I  ever  heard  the  name  men- 
tioned." 

"  Really  !  and  you  have  been  living  in  Paris  for  years. 
It  seems  incomprehensible.  You  must  know  then,  my 
dear  little  ignoramus,  that  the  Baroness  Trigault  is  one 
of  the  most  distinguished  ladies  in  Paris,  and  certainly 
the  best  dressed.  I  am  sure  her  bill  at  Van  Klopen's 
is  not  less  than  a  hundred  thousand  francs  a  year — 
and  that  is  saying  enough,  is  it  not  ?  "  And  with  gen- 
uine pride,  she  added  :  "  The  baroness  is  my  friend.  I 
will  introduce  you  to  her." 

Having   once    started   on   this    theme,    Madame   de 


150     BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

Fondège  was  not  easily  silenced.  It  was  evidently  her 
ambition  to  be  considered  a  woman  of  the  world,  and 
to  be  acquainted  with  all  the  leaders  of  fashionable 
society;  and,  in  fact,  if  one  listened  to  her  conversa- 
tion for  an  hour  one  could  learn  all  the  gossip  of  the 
day.  Though  she  was  unable  to  interest  herself  in  this 
tittle-tattle.  Marguerite  was  pretending  to  listen  to  it 
with  profound  attention  when  the  drawing-room  door 
suddenly  opened  and  Evariste  appeared  with  an  impu- 
dent smile  on  his  face.  "  Madame  Landoire,  the  milli- 
ner, is  here,  and  desires  to  speak  with  Madame  la 
Comtesse,"  he  said. 

On  hearing  this  name,  Madame  de  Fondège  started 
as  if  she  had  been  stung  by  a  viper.  "  Let  her  wait," 
she  said  quickly.    "  I  will  see  her  in  a  moment." 

The  order  was  useless,  for  the  visitor  was  already  on 
the  threshold.  She  was  a  tall,  dark-haired,  ill-mannered 
woman.  "  Ah  !  I've  found  you  at  last,"  she  said,  rudely, 
"  and  I'm  not  sorry.  This  is  the  fourth  time  I've  come 
here  with  my  bill." 

Madame  de  Fondège  pointed  to  Mademoiselle  Mar- 
guerite, and  exclaimed  :  "  Wait,  at  least,  until  I  am 
alone  before  you  speak  to  me  on  business." 

Madame  Landoire  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "  As  if 
you  were  ever  alone,"  she  growled.  "  I  wish  to  put 
an  end  to  this." 

"  Step  into  my  room  then,  and  we  will  put  an  end  to 
it,  and  at  once." 

This  opportunity  to  escape  from  Madame  de  Fondège 
must  not  be  allowed  to  pass  ;  so  Marguerite  asked  per- 
mission to  withdraw,  declaring,  what  was  really  the 
truth,  that  she  felt  completely  tired  out.  After  receiv- 
ing a  maternal  kiss  from  her  hostess,  accompanied  by  a 
"  sleep  well,  my  dear  child,"  she  retired  to  her  own 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE     151 

room.  Thanks  to  Madame  Leon's  absence,  she  found 
herself  alone,  and,  drawing  a  blotting-pad  from  one  of 
her  trunks,  she  hastily  wrote  a  note  to  M.  Isidore  For- 
tunat,  telling  him  that  she  would  call  upon  him  on  the 
following  Tuesday.  "  I  must  be  very  awkward,"  she 
thought,  "  if  to-morrow,  on  going  to  mass,  I  can't  find 
an  opportunity  to  throw  this  note  into  a  letter-box  with- 
out being  observed." 

It  was  fortunate  that  she  had  lost  no  time,  for  her 
writing-case  was  scarcely  in  its  place  again  before 
Madame  Léon  entered,  evidently  out  of  sorts.  "  Well," 
asked  Marguerite,  "  did  you  see  your  friends  ?  " 

"  Don't  speak  of  it,  my  dear  young  lady  ;  they  were 
all  of  them  away  from  home — they  had  gone  to  the 
play." 

"Ah?" 

"  So  I  shall  go  again  early  to-morrow  morning;  you 
must  realize  how  important  it  is." 

"  Yes,  I  understand." 

But  Madame  Léon,  who  was  usually  so  loquacious, 
did  not  seem  to  be  in  a  talkative  mood  that  evening, 
and,  after  kissing  her  dear  young  lady,  she  went  into 
her  own  room. 

"  She  did  not  succeed  in  finding  the  Marquis  de  Val- 
orsay,"  thought  Marguerite,  "  and  being  in  doubt  as 
to  the  part  she  is  to  play,  she  feels  furious." 

The  young  girl  tried  to  sum  up  the  impressions  of 
the  evening,  and  to  decide  upon  a  plan  of  conduct,  but 
she  felt  sad  and  very  weary.  She  said  to  herself  that 
rest  would  be  more  beneficial  than  anything  else,  and 
that  her  mind  would  be  clearer  on  the  morrow;  so 
after  a  fervent  prayer  in  which  Pascal  Ferailleur's 
name  was  mentioned  several  times,  she  prepared  for 
bed.     But  before  she  fell  asleep  she  was  able  to  col- 


152     BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

lect  another  bit  of  evidence.  The  sheets  on  her  bed 
were  new. 

If  Marguerite  had  been  born  in  the  Hôtel  de  Cha- 
lusse,  if  she  had  known  a  father's  and  a  mother's  ten- 
der care  from  her  infancy,  if  she  had  always  been  pro- 
tected by  a  large  fortune  from  the  stern  realities  of  Hfe, 
there  would  have  been  no  hope  for  her  now  that  she 
was  left  poor  and  alone — for  how  can  a  girl  avoid 
dangers  she  is  ignorant  of?  But  from  her  earliest 
childhood  Marguerite  had  studied  the  difficult  science 
of  real  life  under  the  best  of  teachers — misfortune. 
Cast  upon  her  own  resources  at  the  age  of  thirteen,  she 
had  learned  to  look  upon  everybody  and  everything 
with  distrust;  and  by  relying  only  on  herself,  she  had 
become  strangely  cautious  and  clear-sighted.  She  knew 
how  to  watch  and  how  to  listen,  how  to  deliberate  and 
how  to  act.  Two  men,  the  Marquis  de  Valorsay  and 
M.  de  Fondège's  son,  coveted  her  hand;  and  one  of 
the  two,  the  marquis,  so  she  believed,  was  capable  of 
any  crime.  Still  she  felt  no  fears.  She  had  been  in 
danger  once  before  when  she  was  little  more  than  a 
child,  when  the  brother  of  her  employer  insulted  her 
with  his  attentions,  but  she  had  escaped  unharmed. 

Deceit  was  certainly  most  repugnant  to  her  truth- 
loving  nature;  but  it  was  the  only  weapon  of  defence 
she  possessed.  And  so  on  the  following  day  she  care- 
fully studied  the  abode  of  her  entertainers.  And  cer- 
tainly the  study  was  instructive.  The  General's  house- 
hold was  truly  Parisian  in  character;  or,  at  least,  it 
was  what  a  Parisian  household  inevitably  becomes 
when  its  inmates  fall  a  prey  to  the  constantly  increasing 
passion  for  luxury  and  display,  to  the  furore  for  aping 
the  habits  and  expenditure  of  millionaires,  and  to  the 
noble  and  elevated  desire  of  humiliating  and  outshining 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE     153 

their  neighbors.  Ease,  health,  and  comfort  had  been 
unscrupulously  sacrificed  to  show.  The  dining-room 
was  magnificent,  the  drawing-room  superb;  but  these 
were  the  only  comfortably  furnished  apartments  in  the 
establishment.  The  other  rooms  were  bare  and  desolate. 
It  is  true  that  Madame  de  Fondège  had  a  handsome 
wardrobe  with  glass  doors  in  her  own  room,  but  this 
was  an  article  which  the  friend  of  the  fashionable 
Baroness  Trigault  could  not  possibly  dispense  with. 
On  the  other  hand,  her  bed  had  no  curtains. 

The  aspect  of  the  place  fittingly  explained  the  habits 
and  manners  of  the  inmates.  What  sinister  fears  must 
have  haunted  them  !  for  how  could  this  extreme  desti- 
tution in  one  part  of  the  establishment  be  reconciled 
with  the  luxury  noticeable  in  the  other,  except  by  the 
fact  that  a  desperate  struggle  to  keep  up  appearances 
was  constantly  going  on?  And  this  constant  anxiety 
made  out-door  noise,  excitement,  and  gayety  a  necessity 
of  their  existence,  and  caused  them  to  welcome  anything 
that  took  them  from  the  home  where  they  had  barely 
sufficient  to  deceive  society,  and  not  enough  to  impose 
upon  their  creditors.  "  And  they  keep  three  servants," 
thought  Mademoiselle  Marguerite — "  three  enemies 
who  spend  their  time  in  ridiculing  them,  and  torturing 
their  vanity." 

Thus,  on  the  very  first  day  after  her  arrival,  she 
realized  the  real  situation  of  the  General  and  his  wife. 
They  were  certainly  on  the  verge  of  ruin  when  Made- 
moiselle Marguerite  accepted  their  hospitality.  Every- 
thing went  to  prove  this  :  the  coachman's  insolent  de- 
mand, the  servants'  impudence,  the  grocer's  refusal  to 
furnish  a  single  bottle  of  wine  on  credit,  the  milliner's 
persistence,  and,  lastly,  the  new  sheets  on  the  visitors' 
beds.     "  Yes,"   thought   Mademoiselle   Marguerite   to 


154    BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

herself,  "  the  Fondèges  were  ruined  when  I  came  here. 
They  would  never  have  sunk  so  low  if  they  had  not 
been  utterly  destitute  of  resources.  So,  if  they  rise 
again,  if  money  and  credit  come  back  again,  then  the 
old  magistrate  is  right — they  have  obtained  possession 
of  the  Chalusse  millions  !  " 


IX. 


On  this  side,  at  least,  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  had  no 
very  wide  field  of  investigation  to  explore.  Her  com- 
mon sense  told  her  that  her  task  would  merely  consist 
in  carefully  watching  the  behavior  of  the  General  and 
his  wife,  in  noting  their  expenditure,  and  so  on.  It 
was  a  matter  of  close  attention,  and  of  infinitesimal 
trifles.  Nor  was  she  much  encouraged  by  her  first 
success.  It  was,  perhaps,  important;  and  yet  it  might 
be  nothing.  For  she  felt  that  the  real  difficulties  would 
not  begin  until  she  became  morally  certain  that  the 
General  had  stolen  the  millions  that  were  missing  from 
the  count's  escritoire.  Even  then  it  would  remain  for 
her  to  discover  how  he  had  obtained  possession  of  this 
money.  And  when  she  had  succeeded  in  doing  this, 
would  her  task  be  ended?  Certainly  not.  She  must 
obtain  sufficient  evidence  to  give  her  the  right  of  accus- 
ing the  General  openly,  and  in  the  face  of  every  one. 
She  must  have  material  and  indisputable  proofs  before 
she  could  say  :  "  A  robbery  has  been  committed.  I 
was  accused  of  it.  I  was  innocent.  Here  is  the 
culprit  !  " 

What  a  long  journey  must  be  made  before  this  goal 
was  reached  !  No  matter  !  Now  that  she  had  a  posi- 
tive and  fixed  point  of  departure,  she  felt  that  she  pos- 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE     155 

sessed  enough  energy  to  sustain  her  in  her  endeavors 
for  years,  if  need  be.  What  troubled  her  most  was  that 
she  could  not  logically  explain  the  conduct  of  her 
enemies  from  the  time  M.  de  Fondège  had  asked  her 
hand  for  his  son  up  to  the  present  moment.  And  first, 
why  had  they  been  so  audacious  or  so  imprudent  as  to 
bring  her  to  their  own  home  if  they  had  really  stolen 
one  of  those  immense  amounts  that  are  sure  to  betray 
their  possessors?  "They  are  mad,"  she  thought,  "or 
else  they  must  deem  me  blind,  deaf,  and  more  stupid 
than  mortal  ever  was  !  "  Secondly,  why  should  they  be 
so  anxious  to  marry  her  to  their  son.  Lieutenant  Gus- 
tave? This  also  was  a  puzzling  question.  However, 
she  was  fully  decided  on  one  point  :  the  suspicions  of 
the  Fondège  family  must  not  be  aroused.  If  they  were 
on  their  guard,  it  would  be  the  easiest  thing  in  the  world 
for  them  to  pay  their  debts  quietly,  and  increase  their 
expenditure  so  imperceptibly  that  she  would  not  be 
able  to  prove  a  sudden  acquisition  of  wealth. 

But  the  events  of  the  next  few  days  dispelled  these 
apprehensions.  That  very  afternoon,  although  it  was 
Sunday,  it  became  evident  that  a  shower  of  gold  had 
fallen  on  the  General's  abode.  The  door-bell  rang  in- 
cessantly for  several  hours,  and  an  interminable  pro- 
cession of  tradesmen  entered.  It  looked  very  much  as 
if  M.  de  Fondège  had  called  a  meeting  of  his  creditors. 
They  came  in  haughty  and  arrogant,  with  their  hats 
upon  their  heads,  and  surly  of  speech,  like  people  who 
have  made  up  their  minds  to  accept  their  loss,  but  who 
intend  to  pay  themselves  in  rudeness.  They  were 
ushered  into  the  drawing-room  where  the  General  was 
holding  his  levée;  they  remained  there  from  five  to  ten 
minutes,  and  then,  bowing  low  with  hat  in  hand,  they 
retired  with  radiant  countenances,  and  an  obsequious 


156     BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

smile  on  their  lips.  So  they  had  been  paid.  And  as  if 
to  prove  to  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  that  her  sus- 
picions were  correct,  she  chanced  to  be  present  when 
the  livery  stable-keeper  presented  his  bill. 

Madame  de  Fondège  received  him  very  haughtily. 
"  Ah  !  here  you  are  1  "  she  exclaimed,  rudely,  as  soon  as 
he  appeared.  "  So  you  are  the  man  who  teaches  his 
drivers  to  insult  his  customers?  That  is  an  excellent 
way  to  gain  patronage.  What  !  I  hire  a  one-horse  car- 
riage from  you  by  the  month,  and  because  I  happen  to 
wish  for  a  two-horse  vehicle  for  a  single  day,  you  make 
me  pay  the  difference.  You  should  demand  payment  in 
advance  if  you  are  so  suspicious." 

The  stable-keeper,  who  had  a  bill  for  nearly  four 
thousand  francs  in  his  pocket,  stood  listening  with  the 
air  of  a  man  who  is  meditating  some  crushing  reply; 
but  she  did  not  give  him  time  to  deliver  it.  "  When  I 
have  cause  to  complain  of  the  people  I  employ,  I  dis- 
miss them  and  replace  them  by  others.  Insolence  is 
one  of  those  things  that  I  never  forgive.  Give  me  your 
bill." 

The  man,  in  whose  face  doubt,  fear,  and  hope  had 
succeeded  each  other  in  swift  succession,  thereupon 
drew  an  interminable  bill  from  his  pocket.  And  when 
he  saw  the  bank-notes,  when  he  saw  the  bill  paid  with- 
out dispute  or  even  examination,  he  was  seized  with  a 
wondering  respect,  and  his  voice  became  sweeter  than 
honey.  They  say  the  payment  of  a  bad  debt  delights 
a  merchant  a  thousand  times  more  than  the  settlement 
of  fifty  good  ones.  The  truth  of  this  assertion  became 
apparent  in  the  present  case.  Mademoiselle  Marguerite 
thought  the  man  was  going  to  beg  "  Madame  la 
Comtesse  to  do  him  the  favor  to  withhold  a  portion  of 
the  small  amount."    For  the  Parisian  tradesman  is  so 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE     157 

constituted  that  very  frequently  it  is  not  necessary  to 
pay  him  money,  but  only  to  show  it. 

However,  this  creditor's  abnegation  did  not  extend 
so  far  ;  still  he  did  entreat  Madame  la  Comtesse  not  to 
leave  him  on  account  of  a  blunder — for  it  was  a  blunder 
— he  swore  it  on  his  children's  heads.  His  coachman 
was  only  a  fool  and  a  drunkard,  who  had  misunderstood 
him  entirely,  and  whom  he  should  ignominiously  dis- 
miss on  returning  to  his  establishment.  But  "  Madame 
la  Comtesse  "  was  inflexible.  She  sent  the  man  about 
his  business,  saying,  "  I  never  place  myself  in  a  position 
to  be  treated  with  disrespect  a  second  time." 

This  probably  accounted  for  the  fact  that  Evariste, 
the  footman,  who  had  been  so  wanting  in  respect  the 
previous  evening,  had  been  sent  away  that  very  morn- 
ing. Mademoiselle  Marguerite  did  not  see  him  again. 
Dinner  was  served  by  a  new  servant,  who  had  been 
sent  by  an  Employment  Office,  and  engaged  without  a 
question,  no  doubt  because  Evariste's  livery  fitted  him 
like  a  glove.  Had  the  cook  also  been  replaced  ?  Made- 
moiselle Marguerite  thought  so,  though  she  had  no 
means  of  convincing  herself  on  this  point.  It  was  cer- 
tain, however,  that  the  Sunday  dinner  was  utterly  un- 
like that  of  the  evening  before.  Quality  had  replaced 
quantity,  and  care,  profusion.  It  was  not  necessary  to 
send  to  the  cellar  for  a  bottle  of  Château-Laroze  ;  it 
made  its  appearance  at  the  proper  moment,  warmed  to 
the  precise  degree  of  temperature,  and  seemed  quite  to 
the  taste  of  excellent  Madame  Léon. 

In  twenty-four  hours  the  Fondège  family  had  been 
raised  to  such  affluence  that  they  must  have  asked  them- 
selves if  it  were  possible  they  had  ever  known  the 
agonies  of  that  life  of  false  appearances  and  sham 
luxury  which  is  a  thousand  times  worse  than  an  ex- 


158    BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

istence  of  abject  poverty.  "  Is  it  possible  that  I  am 
deceived?"  Marguerite  said  to  herself,  on  retiring  to 
her  room  that  evening.  For  it  surprised  her  that  a 
keen-sighted  person  like  Madame  Léon  should  not  have 
remarked  this  revolution  ;  but  the  worthy  companion 
merely  declared  the  General  and  his  wife  to  be  charm- 
ing people,  and  did  not  cease  to  congratulate  her  dear 
young  lady  upon  having  accepted  their  hospitality.  "  I 
feel  quite  at  home  here,"  said  she  ;  "  and  though  my 
room  is  a  trifle  small,  I  shall  have  nothing  to  wish  for 
when  it  has  been  refurnished." 

Mademoiselle  Marguerite  spent  a  restless  and  uncom- 
fortable night.  In  spite  of  her  reason,  in  spite  of  the 
convincing  proofs  she  had  seen,  the  most  disturbing 
doubts  returned.  Might  she  not  have  judged  the  situa- 
tion with  a  prejudiced  mind  ?  Had  the  Fondèges  really 
been  as  reduced  in  circumstances  as  she  supposed? 
Like  every  one  who  has  been  unfortunate,  she  feared 
illusions,  and  was  extremely  distrustful  of  everything 
that  seemed  to  favor  her  hopes  and  wishes.  The  only 
thing  that  really  encouraged  her  was  the  thought  that 
she  could  consult  the  old  magistrate,  and  that  M.  de 
Chalusse's  former  agent  might  succeed  in  finding  Pascal 
Ferailleur.  M,  Fortunat  must  have  received  her  letter 
by  this  time:  he  would  undoubtedly  expect  her  on 
Tuesday,  and  it  only  remained  for  her  to  invent  some 
excuse  which  would  give  her  a  couple  of  hours'  liberty 
without  awakening  suspicion. 

She  rose  early  the  next  morning,  and  had  almost 
completed  her  toilette,  when  she  heard  some  one  in 
the  passage  outside  rapping  at  the  door  of  Madame 
Leon's  room.  "Who's  there?"  inquired  that  worthy 
lady. 

It  was  Justine,  Madame  de  Fondège's  maid,  who 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE     159 

answered  in  a  pert  voice,  "  Here  is  a  letter,  madame, 
which  has  just  been  sent  up  by  the  concierge.  It  is 
addressed  to  Madame  Léon.  That  is  your  name,  is  it 
not?" 

Marguerite  staggered  as  if  she  had  received  a  heavy 
blow,  "  My  God  !  a  letter  from  the  Marquis  de  Val- 
orsay  !  "  she  thought. 

It  was  evident  that  the  estimable  lady  was  expecting 
this  missive  by  the  eagerness  with  which  she  sprang 
out  of  bed  and  opened  the  door.  And  Marguerite 
heard  her  say  to  the  servant  in  her  sweetest  voice  :  "  A 
thousand  thanks,  my  child  !  Ah  !  this  is  a  great  relief. 
I  have  heard  from  my  brother-in-law  at  last.  I  recog- 
nize his  hand-writing."  And  then  the  door  closed  again. 

Standing  silent  and  motionless  in  the  middle  of  her 
room.  Marguerite  listened  with  that  feverish  anxiety 
that  excites  the  perceptive  faculties  to  the  utmost  de- 
gree. An  inward  voice,  stronger  than  reason,  told  her 
that  this  letter  threatened  her  happiness,  her  future, 
perhaps  her  life  !  But  how  could  she  convince  herself 
of  the  truth  of  this  presentiment?  If  she  had  followed 
her  first  impulse,  she  would  have  rushed  into  Madame 
Leon's  room  and  have  snatched  the  letter  from  her 
hands.  But  if  she  did  this,  she  would  betray  herself, 
and  prove  that  she  was  not  the  dupe  they  supposed  her 
to  be,  and  this  supposition  on  the  part  of  her  enemies 
constituted  her  only  chance  of  salvation. 

If  she  could  only  watch  Madame  Léon  as  she  read 
the  letter,  and  gain  some  information  from  the  expres- 
sion of  her  face;  but  this  seemed  impossible,  for  the 
keyhole  was  blocked  up  by  the  key,  which  had  been 
left  in  the  lock  on  the  other  side.  Suddenly  a  crack  in 
the  partition  attracted  her  attention,  and  finding  that 
it  extended  through  the  wall,  she  realized  she  might 


160     BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

watcli  what  was  passing  in  the  adjoining  room.  So  she 
approached  the  spot  on  tiptoe,  and,  with  bated  breath, 
stooped  and  looked  in. 

In  her  impatience  to  learn  the  contents  of  her  letter, 
Madame  Léon  had  not  gone  back  to  bed.  She  had 
broken  the  seal,  and  was  reading  the  missive,  standing 
barefooted  in  her  night-dress,  directly  opposite  the  little 
crevice.  She  read  line  after  line,  and  word  after  word, 
and  her  knitted  brows  and  compressed  lips  suggested 
deep  concentration  of  thought  mingled  with  discontent. 
At  last  she  shrugged  her  shoulders,  muttered  a  few 
inaudible  words,  and  laid  the  open  letter  upon  the 
rickety  chest  of  drawers,  which,  with  two  chairs  and  a 
bed,  constituted  the  entire  furniture  of  her  apartment. 

"  My  God  !  "  exclaimed  Marguerite,  wath  bated 
breath,  "if  she  would  only  forget  it  !  " 

But  she  did  not  forget  it.  She  began  to  dress,  and 
when  she  had  finished  she  read  the  letter  again,  and  then 
placed  it  carefully  in  one  of  the  drawers,  w^hich  she 
locked,  putting  the  key  in  her  pocket. 

"I  shall  never  know,  then,"  thought  Marguerite; 
"  no,  I  shall  never  know.  But  I  must  know — and  I 
will  !  "  she  added  vehemently. 

From  that  moment  a  firm  determination  to  obtain 
that  letter  took  possession  of  her  mind;  and  so  deeply 
was  she  occupied  in  seeking  for  some  means  to  sur- 
mount the  difficulties  which  stood  in  her  way  that  she 
did  not  say  a  dozen  words  during  breakfast.  "  I  must 
be  a  fool  if  I  can't  find  some  way  of  gaining  possession 
of  that  letter,"  she  said  to  herself  again  and  again.  "I'm 
sure  I  could  find  in  it  the  explanation  of  the  abominable 
intrigue  which  Pascal  and  I  are  the  victims  of." 

Happily,  her  preoccupation  was  not  remarked.  Each 
person  present  was  too  deeply  engrossed  in  his  or  her 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE     161 

own  concerns  to  notice  the  behavior  of  the  others. 
Madame  Leon's  mind  was  occupied  with  the  news  she 
had  just  received  ;  and,  besides,  her  attention  was  con- 
siderably attracted  by  some  partridges  garnished  with 
truffles,  and  a  bottle  of  Château-Laroze.  For  she  was 
rather  fond  of  good  living,  the  dear  lady,  as  she  con- 
fessed herself,  adding  that  no  one  is  perfect.  The 
General  talked  of  nothing  but  a  certain  pair  of  horses 
which  he  was  to  look  at  that  afternoon,  and  which  he 
thought  of  buying — being  quite  disgusted  with  job- 
masters, so  he  declared.  Besides,  he  expected  to  get 
the  animals  at  a  bargain,  as  they  were  the  property  of 
a  young  gentleman  who  had  been  led  to  commit  certain 
misdemeanors  by  his  love  of  gambling  and  his  passion 
for  a  notorious  woman  who  was  afflicted  with  an  in- 
satiable desire  for  jewelry. 

As  for  Madame  de  Fondège,  her  head  seemed  to  have 
been  completely  turned  by  the  prospect  of  the  approach- 
ing fete  at  the  Countess  de  Commarin's.  She  had  only 
a  fortnight  left  to  make  her  preparations.  All  the  even- 
ing before,  through  part  of  the  night,  and  ever  since 
she  had  been  awake  that  morning,  she  had  been  racking 
her  brain  to  arrive  at  an  eflfective  combination  of  colors 
and  materials.  And  at  the  cost  of  a  terrible  headache, 
she  had  at  last  conceived  one  of  those  toilettes  which 
are  sure  to  make  a  sensation,  and  which  the  newspaper 
reporters  will  mention  as  noticeable  for  its  "chic."  "Pic- 
ture to  yourself,"  she  said,  all  ablaze  with  enthusiasm, 
"  picture  to  yourself  a  robe  of  tea-flower  silk,  trimmed 
with  bands  of  heavy  hoUand-tinted  satin,  thickly  em- 
broidered with  flowers.  A  wide  flounce  of  Valenciennes 
at  the  bottom  of  the  skirt.  Over  this,  I  shall  wear  a  tunic 
of  pearl-gray  crepe,  edged  with  a  fringe  of  the  various 
shades  in  the  dress,  and  forming  a  panier  behind." 


162     BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

But  how  much  trouble,  time  and  labor  must  be  ex- 
pended before  such  an  elaborate  chef-d'œuvre  could  be 
completed  !  How  many  conferences  with  the  dress- 
maker, with  the  florist,  and  the  embroiderer!  How 
many  doubts,  how  many  inevitable  mistakes  !  Ah  ! 
there  was  not  a  moment  to  lose  !  Madame  de  Fondège, 
who  was  dressed  to  go  out,  and  who  had  already  sent 
for  a  carriage,  insisted  that  Mademoiselle  Marguerite 
should  accompany  her.  And  certainly,  the  General's 
wife  deemed  the  proposal  a  seductive  one.  It  is  a  very 
fashionable  amusement  to  run  from  one  shop  to  an- 
other, even  when  one  cannot,  or  will  not,  buy.  It  is  a 
custom,  which  some  noble  ladies  have  imported  from 
America,  to  the  despair  of  the  poor  shopkeepers.  And 
thus  every  fine  afternoon,  the  swell  shops  are  filled  to 
overflowing  with  richly-attired  dames  and  damsels,  who 
ask  to  see  all  the  new  goods.  It  is  far  more  amusing 
than  remaining  at  home.  And  when  they  return  to 
dinner  in  the  evening,  after  inspecting  hundreds  of 
yards  of  silk  and  satin,  they  are  very  well  pleased  with 
themselves,  for  they  have  not  lost  the  day.  Nor  do  the 
shrewdest  always  return  from  these  expeditions  empty- 
handed.  A  dozen  gloves  or  a  piece  of  lace  can  be 
hidden  so  easily  in  the  folds  of  a  mantle  ! 

And  yet,  to  Madame  de  Fondège's  great  surprise, 
Marguerite  declined  the  invitation.  "  I  have  so  many 
things  to  put  in  order,"  she  added,  feeling  that  an  ex- 
cuse was  indispensable. 

But  Madame  Léon,  who  had  not  the  same  reasons  as 
her  dear  child  for  wishing  to  remain  at  home,  kindly 
ofifered  her  services.  She  was  acquainted  with  several 
of  the  best  shops,  she  declared,  particularly  with  the 
establishment  of  a  dealer  in  laces,  in  the  Rue  de  Mul- 
house, and  thanks  to  an  introduction  from  her,  Madame 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE     163 

de  Fondège  could  not  fail  to  conclude  a  very  advan- 
tageous bargain  there.  "  Very  well,"  replied  Madame 
de  Fondège,  "  I  will  take  you  with  me,  then  ;  but  make 
haste  and  dress  while  I  put  on  my  bonnet." 

They  left  the  breakfast-room  at  the  same  time,  closely 
followed  by  Mademoiselle  Marguerite,  who  was  dis- 
turbed by  a  hope  which  she  scarcely  dared  confess  to 
herself.  With  her  forehead  resting  against  the  wall, 
and  her  eye  peering  through  the  tiny  crack,  she  watched 
her  governess  change  her  dress,  throw  a  shawl  over  her 
shoulders,  put  on  her  best  bonnet,  and,  after  a  glance 
at  the  looking-glass,  rush  from  the  room,  exclaiming: 
"  Here  I  am,  my  dear  countess.     I'm  ready." 

And  a  few  moments  afterward  they  left  the  house 
together. 

As  the  outer  door  closed  after  them.  Marguerite's 
brain  whirled.  If  she  were  not  deceived,  Madame  Léon 
had  left  the  key  of  the  drawers  in  the  pocket  of  the 
dress  she  had  just  taken  ofif.  So  it  was  with  a  wildly 
throbbing  heart  that  she  opened  the  communicating 
door  and  entered  her  "  companion's  "  room.  She  hastily 
approached  the  bed  on  which  the  dress  was  lying,  and, 
with  a  trembling  hand,  she  began  to  search  for  the 
pocket.  Fortune  favored  her!  The  key  was  there. 
The  letter  was  within  her  reach.  But  she  was  about  to 
do  a  deed  against  which  her  whole  nature  revolted.  To 
steal  a  key,  to  force  an  article  of  furniture  open,  and 
violate  the  secret  of  a  private  correspondence,  these 
were  actions  so  repugnant  to  her  sense  of  honor,  and 
her  pride,  that  for  some  time  she  stood  irresolute.  At 
last  the  instinct  of  self-preservation  overpowered  her 
scruples.  Was  not  her  honor,  and  Pascal's  honor 
also,  at  stake — as  well  as  their  mutual  love  and  hap- 
piness ?     "  It  would  be   folly   to  hesitate,"  she  mur- 


164    BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

mured.     And  with  a  firm  hand  she  placed  the  key  in 
the  lock. 

The  latter  was  out  of  order  and  the  drawer  was  only 
opened  with  difficulty.  But  there,  on  some  clothes 
which  Madame  Léon  had  not  yet  found  time  to  arrange, 
Marguerite  saw  the  letter.  She  eagerly  snatched  it  up, 
unfolded  it,  and  read  :  "  Dear  Madame  Léon — "  "  Dear 
me,"  she  muttered,  "  here  is  the  name  in  full.  This  is 
an  indiscretion  which  will  render  denial  difficult."  And 
she  resumed  her  perusal  :  "  Your  letter,  which  I  have 
just  received,  confirms  what  my  servants  had  already 
told  me  :  that  twice  during  my  absence — on  Saturday 
evening  and  Sunday  morning — you  called  at  my  house 
to  see  me."  So  Mademoiselle  Marguerite's  penetration 
had  served  her  well.  All  this  talk  about  anxious  rela- 
tives had  only  been  an  excuse  invented  by  Madame 
Léon  to  enable  her  to  absent  herself  whenever  occasion 
required.  "  I  regret,"  continued  the  letter,  "  that  you 
did  not  find  me  at  home,  for  I  have  instructions  of  the 
greatest  importance  to  give  you.  We  are  approaching 
the  decisive  moment.  I  have  formed  a  plan  which  will 
completely,  and  forever,  efface  all  remembrance  of  that 
cursed  P.  F.,  in  case  any  one  condescended  to  think  of 
him  after  the  disgrace  we  fastened  upon  him  the  other 
evening  at  the  house  of  Madame  d'Argelès."  P.  F. — 
these  initials  of  course  meant  Pascal  Ferailleur.  Then 
he  was  innocent,  and  she  held  an  undeniable,  irrefutable 
proof  of  his  innocence  in  her  hands.  How  coolly  and 
impudently  Valorsay  confessed  his  atrocious  crime  !  "  A 
bold  stroke  is  in  contemplation  which,  if  no  unfortunate 
and  well-nigh  impossible  accident  occur,  will  throw  the 
girl  into  my  arms."  Marguerite  shuddered.  "  The 
girl  "  referred  to  her,  of  course.  "  Thanks  to  the  assist- 
ance of  one  of  my  friends,"  added  the  letter,  "  I  can 


BARON   TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE     165 

place  this  proud  damsel  in  a  perilous,  terribly  perilous 
position,  from  which  she  cannot  possibly  extricate  her- 
self unaided.  But,  just  as  she  gives  herself  up  for  lost, 
I  shall  interpose.  I  shall  save  her;  and  it  will  be 
strange  if  gratitude  does  not  work  the  necessary  miracle 
in  my  favor.  The  plan  is  certain  to  succeed.  Still,  it 
will  be  all  the  better  if  the  physician  who  attended  M. 

de  C in  his  last  moments,  and  whom  you  spoke  to 

me  about  (Dr.  Jodon,  if  I  remember  rightly),  will  con- 
sent to  lend  us  a  helping  hand.  What  kind  of  a  man 
is  he?  If  he  is  accessible  to  the  seductive  influence  of 
a  few  thousand  francs,  I  shall  consider  the  business  as 
good  as  concluded.  Your  conduct  up  to  the  present 
time  has  been  a  chef-d'œuvre,  for  which  you  shall  be 
amply  compensated.  You  have  cause  to  know  that  I 
am  not  ungrateful.  Let  the  F's  continue  their  intrigues, 
and  even  pretend  to  favor  them.  I  am  not  afraid  of 
these  people.  I  understand  their  game  perfectly,  and 
know  why  they  wish  my  little  one  to  marry  their  son. 
But  when  they  become  troublesome,  I  shall  crush  them 
like  glass.  In  spite  of  these  explanations,  which  I  have 
just  given  you  for  your  guidance,  it  is  very  necessary 
that  I  should  see  you.  I  shall  look  for  you  on  Tuesday 
afternoon,  between  three  and  four  o'clock.  Above  all, 
don't  fail  to  bring  me  the  desired  information  respect- 
ing Dr.  Jodon.  I  am,  my  dear  madame,  devotedly 
yours — V."  Below  ran  a  postscript  which  read  as  fol- 
lows :  "When  you  come  on  Tuesday  bring  this  letter  with 
you.  We  will  burn  it  together.  Don't  imagine  that  I  dis- 
trust you — but  there  is  nothing  so  dangerous  as  letters." 
For  some  time  Marguerite  stood,  stunned  and  ap- 
palled by  the  Marquis  de  Valorsay's  audacity,  and  by 
the  language  of  this  letter,  which  was  at  once  so  obscure 
and  so  clear,  every  line  of  it  threatening  her  future. 


166    BARON   TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

The  reality  surpassed  her  worst  apprehensions,  but  real- 
izing the  gravity  of  the  situation,  she  shook  off  the 
torpor  stealing  over  her.  She  felt  that  every  second  was 
precious,  and  that  she  must  act,  and  act  at  once.  But 
what  should  she  do?  Simply  return  the  letter  to  its 
place,  and  continue  to  act  the  rôle  of  a  dupe,  as  if 
nothing  had  happened?  No;  that  must  not  be.  It 
would  be  madness  not  to  seize  this  flagrant  proof  of  the 
Marquis  de  Valorsay's  infamy.  But  on  the  other  hand, 
if  she  kept  the  letter,  Madame  Léon  would  immediately 
discover  its  loss,  and  an  explanation  would  be  unavoid- 
able. M.  de  Valorsay  would  be  worsted,  but  not  anni- 
hilated, and  the  plans  which  made  the  physician's  inter- 
vention a  necessity  would  never  be  revealed.  She 
thought  of  hastening  to  her  friend  the  old  magistrate; 
but  he  lived  a  long  way  off,  and  time  was  pressing. 
Besides  she  might  not  find  him  at  home.  Then  she 
thought  of  going  to  a  notary,  to  a  judge.  She  would 
show  them  the  letter,  and  they  could  take  a  copy  of  it. 
But  no — this  would  do  no  good — the  marquis  could  still 
deny  it.  She  was  becoming  desperate,  and  was  accus- 
ing herself  of  stupidity,  when  a  sudden  inspiration 
illumined  her  mind,  turning  night  into  day,  as  it  were. 
"  Oh,  Pascal,  we  are  saved  !  "  she  exclaimed.  And  with- 
out pausing  to  deliberate  any  longer,  she  threw  a  mantle 
over  her  shoulders,  hastily  tied  on  her  bonnet,  and  hur- 
ried from  the  house,  without  saying  a  word  to  any  one. 
Unfortunately  she  was  not  acquainted  with  this  part 
of  Paris,  and  on  reaching  the  Rue  Pigalle  she  was  at 
a  loss  for  her  way.  Unwilling  to  waste  any  more  time, 
she  hastily  entered  a  grocer's  shop  at  the  corner  of  the 
Rue  Pigalle  and  the  Rue  Notre  Dame  de  Lorette,  and 
anxiously  inquired  :  "  Do  you  know  any  photographer 
in  this  neighborhood,  monsieur  ?  " 


BARON   TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE     167 

Her  agitation  made  this  question  seem  so  singular 
that  the  grocer  looked  at  her  closely  for  a  moment,  as 
if  to  make  sure  that  she  was  not  jesting.  "  You  have 
only  to  go  down  the  Rue  Notre  Dame  de  Lorette,"  he 
replied,  "  and  on  the  left-hand  side,  at  the  foot  of  the 
hill,  you  will  find  the  photographer  Carjat." 

"  Thank  you." 

The  grocer  stepped  to  the  door  to  watch  her.  "  That 
girl  is  certainly  light-headed,"  he  thought. 

Her  demeanor  was  really  so  extraordinary  that  it 
attracted  the  attention  of  the  passers-by.  She  saw  this, 
and  slackening  her  pace,  tried  to  become  more  com- 
posed. At  the  spot  the  grocer  had  indicated,  she  per- 
ceived several  show  frames  filled  with  photographs 
hanging  on  either  side  of  a  broad,  open  gateway,  above 
which  ran  the  name,  "  E.  Carjat."  She  went  in,  and 
seeing  a  man  standing  at  the  door  of  an  elegant  pavilion 
on  the  right-hand  side  of  a  large  courtyard,  she  ap- 
proached him,  and  asked  for  his  employer. 

"  He  is  here,"  replied  the  man.  "  Does  madame  come 
for  a  photograph  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Then  will  madame  be  so  kind  as  to  pass  in.  She 
will  not  be  obliged  to  wait  long.  There  are  only  four 
or  five  persons  before  her." 

Four  or  five  persons  !  How  long  would  she  be 
obliged  to  wait? — half  an  hour — two  hours?  She  had 
not  the  slightest  idea.  But  she  did  know  that  she  had 
not  a  second  to  lose,  that  Madame  Léon  might  return 
at  any  moment,  and  find  the  letter  missing;  and,  to 
crown  all,  she  remembered  now  that  she  had  not 
even  locked  the  drawer  again.  "  I  cannot  wait," 
she  said,  imperiously.  "  I  must  speak  to  M.  Carjat  at 
once." 


168    BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 


"  But- 


"  At  once,  I  tell  you.  Go  and  tell  him  that  he  must 
come." 

Her  tone  was  so  commanding,  and  there  was  so  much 
authority  in  her  glance,  that  the  servant  hesitated  no 
longer.  He  ushered  her  into  a  little  sitting-room, 
and  said,  "  If  madame  will  take  a  seat,  I  will  call 
monsieur." 

She  sank  on  to  a  chair,  for  her  limbs  were  failing 
her.  She  was  beginning  to  realize  the  strangeness  of 
the  step  she  had  taken — to  fear  the  result  it  might  lead 
to — and  to  be  astonished  at  her  own  boldness.  But  she 
had  no  time  to  prepare  what  she  wished  to  say,  for  a 
man  of  five-and-thirty,  wearing  a  mustache  and  im- 
perial, and  clad  in  a  velvet  coat,  entered  the  room,  and 
bowing  with  an  air  of  surprise,  exclaimed  :  "  You  desire 
to  speak  with  me,  madame  ?  " 

"  I  have  a  great  favor  to  ask  of  you,  monsieur." 

"Of  me?" 

She  drew  M.  de  Valorsay's  letter  from  her  pocket, 
and,  showing  it  to  the  photographer,  she  said,  "  I  have 
come  to  you,  monsieur,  to  ask  you  to  photograph  this 
letter — but  at  once — ^before  me — and  quickly — very 
quickly.  The  honor  of  two  persons  is  imperilled  by 
each  moment  I  lose  here." 

Mademoiselle  Marguerite's  embarrassment  was  ex- 
treme. Her  cheeks  were  crimson,  and  she  trembled  like 
a  leaf.  Still  her  attitude  was  proud,  generous  enthusi- 
asm glowed  in  her  dark  eyes,  and  her  tone  of  voice 
revealed  the  serenity  of  a  lofty  soul  ready  to  dare  any- 
thing for  a  just  and  noble  cause.  This  striking  con- 
trast— this  struggle  between  girlish  timidity  and  a 
lover's  virgil  energy,  endowed  her  with  a  strange  and 
powerful  charm,  which  the  photographer  made  no  at- 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE     169 

tempt  to  resist.  Unusual  as  was  the  request,  he  did 
not  hesitate.  ''  I  am  ready  to  do  what  you  desire, 
madame,"  he  repHed,  bowing  again. 

"Oh!  monsieur,  how  can  I  ever  thank  you?" 

He  did  not  stop  to  hsten  to  her  thanks.  Not  wishing 
to  return  to  the  reception-room,  where  five  or  six  cHents 
were  impatiently  awaiting  their  turn,  he  called  one  of 
his  subordinates,  and  ordered  him  to  bring  the  necessary 
apparatus  at  once.  While  he  w^as  speaking,  Made- 
moiselle Marguerite  paused  ;  but,  as  soon  as  his  instruc- 
tions were  concluded,  she  remarked  :  "  Perhaps  you  are 
too  hasty,  sir.  You  have  not  allowed  me  to  explain; 
and  perhaps  what  I  desire  is  impossible.  I  came  on  the 
impulse  of  the  moment,  without  any  knowledge  on  the 
subject.  Before  you  set  to  work,  I  must  know  if  what 
you  can  do  will  answer  my  purpose." 

**  Speak,  madame." 

"  Will  the  copy  you  obtain  be  precisely  like  the  orig- 
inal in  every  particular  ?  " 

"  In  every  particular." 

"  The  writing  will  be  the  same — exactly  the  same  ?  " 

"  Absolutely  the  same." 

"  So  like,  that  if  one  of  your  photographs  should  be 
presented  to  the  person  who  wrote  this  letter " 

"  He  could  no  more  deny  his  handwriting  than  he 
could  if  some  one  handed  him  the  letter  itself." 

"  And  the  operation  will  leave  no  trace  on  the 
original  ?  " 

"  None." 

A  smile  of  triumph  played  upon  Mademoiselle  Mar- 
guerite's lips.  It  was  as  she  had  thought  ;  the  defensive 
plan  which  she  had  suddenly  conceived  was  a  good 
one.  "  One  more  question,  sir,"  she  resumed.  "  I  am 
only  a  poor,  ignorant  girl  ;  excuse  me,  and  give  me  the 


170    BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

benefit  of  your  knowledge.  This  letter  will  be  returned 
to  its  author  to-morrow,  and  he  will  burn  it.  But  after- 
ward, in  case  of  any  difficulty — in  case  of  a  law-suit — 
or  in  case  it  should  be  necessary  for  me  to  prove  certain 
things  which  one  might  establish  by  means  of  this 
letter,  would  one  of  your  photographs  be  admitted  as 
evidence?  " 

The  photographer  did  not  answer  for  a  moment. 
Now  he  understood  Mademoiselle  Marguerite's  motive, 
and  the  importance  she  attached  to  a  fac-simile.  But 
this  imparted  an  unexpected  gravity  to  the  service  he 
was  called  upon  to  perform.  He  therefore  wished  some 
time  for  reflection,  and  he  scrutinized  Mademoiselle 
Marguerite  as  if  he  were  trying  to  read  her  very  soul. 
Was  it  possible  that  this  young  girl,  with  such  a  pure 
and  noble  brow,  and  with  such  frank,  honest  eyes,  could 
be  meditating  any  cowardly,  dishonorable  act?  No,  he 
could  not  believe  it.  In  whom,  or  in  what,  could  he 
trust  if  such  a  countenance  deceived  him  ?  "  My  fac- 
simile would  certainly  be  admitted  as  evidence,"  he  re- 
plied at  last  ;  "  and  this  would  not  be  the  first  time  that 
tlie  decision  of  a  court  has  depended  on  proofs  which 
have  been  photographed  by  me." 

Meanwhile,  his  assistant  had  returned,  bringing  the 
necessary  apparatus  with  him.  When  all  was  ready, 
the  photographer  asked  her,  "  Will  you  give  me  the 
letter,  madame?  " 

She  hesitated  for  a  second — only  for  a  second.  The 
man's  honest,  kindly  face  told  her  that  he  would  not 
betray  her,  that  he  would  rather  give  her  assistance.  So 
she  handed  him  the  Marquis  de  Valorsay's  letter,  say- 
ing, with  melancholy  dignity,  "  It  is  my  happiness  and 
my  future  that  I  place  in  your  hands — and  I  have  no 
fears." 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE     171 

He  read  her  thoughts,  and  understood  that  she  either 
dared  not  ask  for  a  pledge  of  secrecy,  or  else  that  she 
thought  it  unnecessary.  He  took  pity  on  her,  and  his 
last  doubt  fled.  "  I  shall  read  this  letter,  madame,"  said 
he,  "  but  I  am  the  only  person  who  will  read  it.  I  give 
you  my  word  on  that  !  No  one  but  myself  will  see  the 
proofs." 

Greatly  moved,  she  offered  him  her  hand,  and  simply 
said,  "  Thanks  ;  I  am  more  than  repaid." 

To  obtain  an  absolutely  perfect  fac-simile  of  a  letter 
is  a  delicate  and  sometimes  lengthy  operation.  How- 
ever, at  the  end  of  about  twenty  minutes,  the  pho- 
tographer possessed  two  negatives  that  promised  him 
perfect  proofs.  He  looked  at  them  with  a  satisfied  air  ; 
and  then  returning  the  letter  to  Mademoiselle  Mar- 
guerite, he  said,  "  In  less  than  three  days  the  fac-similes 
will  be  ready,  madame;  and  if  you  will  tell  me  to  what 
address  I  ought  to  send  them " 

She  trembled  on  hearing  these  words,  and  quickly  an- 
swered, "  Don't  send  them,  sir — keep  them  carefully. 
Great  heavens  !  all  would  be  lost  if  it  came  to  the 
knowledge  of  any  one.  I  will  send  for  them,  or  come 
myself."  And,  feeling  the  extent  of  her  obligation, 
she  added,  "  But  I  will  not  go  without  introducing  my- 
self— I  am  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  de  Chalusse." 
And,  thereupon,  she  went  off,  leaving  the  photographer 
surprised  at  the  adventure  and  dazzled  by  his  strange 
visitor's  beauty. 

Rather  more  than  an  hour  had  elapsed  since  Mar- 
guerite left  M.  de  Fondège's  house.  "  How  time  flies  !  " 
she  murmured,  quickening  her  pace  as  much  as  she 
could  without  exciting  remark — "  how  time  flies  !  "  But, 
hurried  as  she  was,  she  stopped  and  spent  five  minutes 
at  a  shop  in  the  Rue  Notre  Dame  de  Lorette,  where 


172     BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

she  purchased  some  black  ribbon  and  a  few  other  trifles. 
How  else  could  she  explain  and  justify  her  absence,  if 
the  servants,  who  had  probably  discovered  she  had  gone 
out,  chanced  to  speak  of  it? 

But  her  heart  throbbed  as  if  it  would  burst  as  she 
ascended  the  General's  staircase,  and  anxiety  checked 
her  breathing  as  she  rang  the  bell.  "  What  if  Madame 
de  Fondège  and  Madame  Léon  had  returned,  and  the 
abstraction  of  the  letter  been  discovered  !  "  For- 
tunately, Madame  de  Fondège  required  more  than  an 
hour  to  purchase  the  materials  for  the  elaborate  toilette 
she  had  dreamt  of.  The  ladies  were  still  out,  and 
Mademoiselle  Marguerite  found  everything  in  the  same 
condition  as  she  had  left  it.  She  carefully  placed  the 
letter  in  the  drawer  again,  locked  it,  and  put  tlie  key 
in  the  pocket  of  Madame  Leon's  dress.  Then  she 
breathed  freely  once  more  ;  and,  for  the  first  time  in  six 
days,  she  felt  something  very  like  joy  in  her  heart. 
Now  she  had  no  fear  of  the  Marquis  de  Valorsay.  She 
had  him  in  her  power.  He  would  destroy  his  letter  the 
next  day,  and  think  that  he  was  annihilating  all  proofs 
of  his  infamy.  Not  so.  At  the  decisive  moment,  at  the 
very  moment  of  his  triumph,  she  would  produce  the 
photograph  of  this  letter,  and  crush  him.  And  she — 
only  a  young  girl — had  outwitted  this  consummate 
scoundrel  !  "  I  have  not  been  unworthy  of  Pascal,"  she 
said  to  herself,  with  a  flash  of  pride. 

However,  her  nature  was  not  one  of  those  weak  ones 
which  are  become  intoxicated  by  the  first  symptom  of 
success,  and  then  relax  in  their  efforts.  When  her  ex- 
citement had  abated  a  little,  she  was  inclined  to  dis- 
parage rather  than  to  exaggerate  the  advantage  she  had 
gained.  What  she  desired  was  a  complete,  startling,  in- 
contestable victory.     It  w^as  not  enough  to  prove  Val- 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE     173 

orsay's  guilt — she  was  resolved  to  penetrate  his  designs, 
to  discover  why  he  pursued  her  so  desperately.  And, 
though  she  felt  that  she  possessed  a  formidable  weapon 
of  defence,  she  could  not  drive  away  her  gloomy  fore- 
bodings when  she  thought  of  the  threats  contained  in 
the  marquis's  letter.  "  Thanks  to  the  assistance  of  one 
of  my  friends,"  he  wrote,  "  I  can  place  this  proud  girl 
in  a  perilous,  terribly  perilous,  position,  from  which  she 
cannot  possibly  extricate  herself  unaided." 

These  words  persistently  lingered  in  Mademoiselle 
Marguerite's  mind.  What  was  the  danger  hanging 
over  her?  whence  would  it  come?  and  in  what  form? 
What  abominable  machination  might  she  not  expect 
from  the  villain  who  had  deliberately  dishonored  Pas- 
cal? How  would  he  attack  her?  Would  he  strive  to 
ruin  her  reputation,  or  did  he  intend  to  forcibly  abduct 
her  ?  Would  he  attempt  to  decoy  her  into  a  trap  where 
she  would  be  subjected  to  the  insults  of  the  vilest 
wretches?  A  thousand  frightful  memories  of  the  time 
when  she  was  an  apprentice  drove  her  nearly  frantic. 
"  I  will  never  go  out  unarmed,"  she  thought,  "  and  woe 
to  the  man  who  raises  his  hand  against  me  !  " 

The  vagueness  of  the  threat  increased  her  fears.  No 
one  is  courageous  enough  to  confront  an  unknown, 
mysterious,  and  always  imminent  danger  without  some- 
times faltering.  Nor  was  this  all.  The  marquis  was 
not  her  only  enemy.  She  had  the  Fondège  family  to 
dread — these  dangerous  hypocrites,  who  had  taken  her 
to  their  home  so  that  they  might  ruin  her  the  more 
surely.  M.  de  Valorsay  wrote  that  he  had  no  fears  of 
the  Fondèges — that  he  understood  their  little  game. 
What  was  their  little  game?  No  doubt  they  were  re- 
solved that  she  should  become  their  son's  wife,  even  if 
they  were  obliged  to  use  force  to  win  her  consent.    At 


174     BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

this  thought  a  sudden  terror  seized  her  soul,  so  full  of 
peace  and  hope  an  instant  before.  When  she  was  at- 
tacked, would  she  have  time  to  produce  and  use  the  fac- 
simile of  Valorsay's  letter  ?  "I  must  reveal  my  secret 
to  a  friend — to  a  trusty  friend — who  will  avenge  me  !  " 
she  muttered. 

Fortunately  she  had  a  friend  in  whom  she  could  safely 
confide — the  old  magistrate  who  had  given  her  such 
proofs  of  sympathy.  She  felt  that  she  needed  the  ad- 
vice of  a  riper  experience  than  her  own,  and  the 
thought  of  consulting  him  at  once  occurred  to  her.  She 
was  alone  ;  she  had  no  spy  to  fear  ;  and  it  would  be 
folly  not  to  profit  by  the  few  moments  of  liber^v  that 
remained.  So  she  drew  her  writing-case  from  her 
trunk,  and,  after  barricading  her  door  to  prevent  a  sur- 
prise, she  wrote  her  friend  an  account  of  the  events 
which  had  taken  place  since  their  last  interview.  She 
told  him  everything  with  rare  precision  and  accuracy 
of  detail,  sending  him  a  copy  of  Valorsay's  letter,  and 
informing  him  that,  in  case  any  misfortune  befell  her, 
he  could  obtain  the  fac-similes  from  Car j  at.  She  fin- 
ished her  letter,  but  did  not  seal  it.  "  If  anything  should 
happen  before  I  have  an  opportunity  to  post  it,  I  will 
add  a  postscript,"  she  said  to  herself. 

She  had  made  all  possible  haste,  fearing  that  Madame 
de  Fondège  and  Madame  Léon  might  return  at  any 
moment.  But  this  was  truly  a  chimerical  apprehension. 
It  was  nearly  six  o'clock  when  the  two  shoppers  made 
tlieir  appearance,  wearied  with  the  labors  of  the  day, 
but  in  fine  spirits.  Besides  purchasing  every  requisite 
for  that  wonderful  costume  of  hers,  the  General's  wife 
had  found  some  laces  of  rare  beauty,  which  she  had 
secured  for  the  mere  trifle  of  four  thousand  francs.  "  It 
was  one  of  those  opportunities  one  ought  always  to 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE     175 

profit  by,"  she  said,  as  she  displayed  her  purchase.  "Be- 
sides, it  is  the  same  with  lace  as  with  diamonds,  you 
should  purchase  them  when  you  can — then  you  have 
them.  It  isn't  an  outlay — it's  an  investment."  Subtle 
reasoning  that  has  cost  many  a  husband  dear  ! 

On  her  side,  Madame  Léon  proudly  showed  her  dear 
young  lady  a  very  pretty  present  which  Madame  de 
Fondège  had  given  her.  "  So  money  is  no  longer  lack- 
ing in  this  household,"  thought  Mademoiselle  Mar- 
guerite, all  the  more  confirmed  in  her  suspicions. 

The  General  came  in  a  little  later,  accempanied  by  a 
friend,  and  Marguerite  soon  discovered  that  the  worthy 
man  had  spent  the  day  as  profitably  as  his  wife.  He  too 
was  quite  tired  out;  and  he  had  reason  to  be  fatigued. 
First,  he  had  purchased  the  horses  belonging  to  the 
ruined  spendthrift,  and  he  had  paid  five  thousand  francs 
for  them,  a  mere  trifle  for  such  animals.  Less  than 
an  hour  after  the  purchase  he  had  refused  almost  double 
that  amount  from  a  celebrated  connoisseur  in  horse-flesh, 
M.  de  Breulh-Faverlay.  This  excellent  speculation  had 
put  him  in  such  good  humor  that  he  had  been  unable 
to  resist  the  temptation  of  purchasing  a  beautiful  sad- 
dle-horse, which  they  let  him  have  for  a  hundred  louis. 
He  had  not  been  foolish,  for  he  was  sure  that  he  could 
sell  the  animal  again  at  an  advance  of  a  thousand 
francs  whenever  he  wished  to  do  so.  "  So,"  remarked 
his  friend,  "  if  you  bought  such  a  horse  every  day,  you 
would  make  three  hundred  and  sixty-five  thousand 
francs  a  year." 

Was  this  only  a  jest — one  of  those  witticisms  which 
people  who  boast  of  wonderful  bargains  must  expect  to 
parry,  or  had  the  remark  a  more  serious  meaning? 
Marguerite  could  not  determine.  One  thing  is  certain, 
the  General  did  not  lose  his  temper,  but  gayly  continued 


176    BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

his  account  of  the  way  in  which  he  had  spent  his  time. 
Having  purchased  the  horses,  his  next  task  was  to  find 
a  carriage,  and  he  had  heard  of  a  barouche  which  a 
Russian  prince  had  ordered  but  didn't  take,  so  that  the 
builder  was  wilHng  to  sell  it  at  less  than  cost  price; 
and  to  recoup  this  worthy  man,  the  General  had  pur- 
chased a  brougham  as  well.  He  had,  moreover,  hired 
stabling  in  the  Rue  Pigalle,  only  a  few  steps  from  the 
house,  and  he  expected  a  coachman  and  a  groom  the 
following  morning. 

"  And  all  this  will  cost  us  less  than  the  miserable 
vehicle  we  have  been  hiring  by  the  year,"  observed 
Madame  de  Fondège,  gravely.  "  Oh,  I  know  what  I 
say.  I've  counted  the  cost.  What  with  gratuities  and 
extras,  it  costs  us  now  fully  a  thousand  francs  a  month, 
and  three  horses  and  a  coachman  won't  cost  you  more. 
And  what  a  difference  !  I  shall  no  longer  be  obliged 
to  blush  for  the  skinny  horses  the  stable-keeper  sends 
me,  nor  to  endure  the  insolence  of  his  men.  The  first 
outlay  frightened  me  a  little  ;  but  that  is  made  now,  and 
I  am  delighted.    We  will  save  it  in  something  else." 

"  In  laces,  no  doubt,"  thought  Mademoiselle  Mar- 
guerite. She  was  intensely  exasperated,  and  on  re- 
gaining her  chamber  she  said  to  herself,  for  the  tenth 
time,  "  What  do  they  take  me  for  ?  Do  they  think  me 
an  idiot  to  flaunt  the  millions  they  have  stolen  from  my 
father — that  they  have  stolen  from  me — before  my  eyes 
in  this  fashion?  A  common  thief  would  take  care  not 
to  excite  suspicion  by  a  foolish  expenditure  of  the  fruits 
of  his  knavery,  but  they — they  have  lost  their  senses." 

Madame  Léon  was  already  in  bed,  and  when  Made- 
moiselle Marguerite  was  satisfied  that  she  was  asleep, 
she  took  her  letter  from  her  trunk,  and  added  this  post- 
script :  "  P.  S. — It  is  impossible  to  retain  the  shadow 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE     177 

of  a  doubt,  M,  and  Madame  de  Fondège  have  spent 
certainly  twenty  thousand  francs  to-day.  This  audacity 
must  arise  from  a  conviction  that  no  proofs  of  the  crime 
they  have  committed  exist.  Still  they  continue  to  talk 
to  me  about  their  son,  Lieutenant  Gustave.  He  will  be 
presented  to  me  to-morrow.  To-morrow,  also,  between 
three  and  four,  I  shall  be  at  the  house  of  a  man  who 
can  perhaps  discover  Pascal's  hiding-place  for  me, — 
the  house  of  M.  Isidore  Fortunat.  I  hope  to  make 
my  escape  easily  enough,  for  at  that  same  hour, 
]\Iadame  Léon  has  an  appointment  with  the  Marquis 
de  Valorsay." 


X. 


The  old  legend  of  Achilles's  heel  will  be  eternally  true. 
A  man  may  be  humble  or  powerful,  feeble  or  strong, 
but  there  are  none  of  us  without  some  weak  spot  in  our 
armor,  a  spot  vulnerable  beyond  all  others,  a  certain 
place  where  wounds  prove  most  dangerous  and  painful. 
M.  Isidore  Fortunat's  weak  place  was  his  cash-box.  To 
attack  him  there  was  to  endanger  his  life — to  wound 
him  at  a  point  where  all  his  sensibility  centred.  For 
it  was  in  this  cash-box  and  not  in  his  breast  that  his 
heart  really  throbbed.  His  safe  made  him  happy  or 
dejected.  Happy  when  it  was  filled  to  overflowing  by 
some  brilliant  operation,  and  dejected  when  he  saw  it 
become  empty  as  some  imprudent  transaction  failed. 

This  then  explains  his  frenzy  on  that  ill-fated  Sun- 
day, when,  after  being  brutally  dismissed  by  M.  Wilkie, 
he  returned  to  his  rooms  in  the  company  of  his  clerk, 
Victor  Chupin.  This  explains,  too,  the  intensity  of  the 
hatred  he  now  felt  for  the  Marquis  de  Valorsay  and  the 


178    BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

Viscount  de  Coralth.  The  former,  the  marquis,  had 
defrauded  him  of  forty  thousand  francs  in  gHttering 
gold.  The  other,  the  viscount,  had  suddenly  sprung 
up  out  of  the  ground,  and  carried  ofif  from  under  his 
very  nose  that  magnificent  prize,  the  Chalusse  inher- 
itance, w^hich  he  had  considered  as  good  as  won.  And 
he  had  not  only  been  defrauded  and  swindled — such 
were  his  own  expressions — but  he  had  been  tricked, 
deceived,  duped,  and  outwitted,  and  by  whom?  By 
people  who  did  not  make  it  their  profession  to  be 
shrewd,  like  he  did  himself.  Just  fancy,  his  business 
was  to  outwit  others,  and  a  couple  of  mere  amateurs  had 
outgeneraled  him.  He  had  not  only  suffered  in  pocket, 
he  had  been  humiliated  as  well,  and  so  he  indulged  in 
threats  of  such  terrible  import. 

However,  at  the  very  moment  when  he  was  dreaming 
of  wreaking  vengeance  on  the  Marquis  de  Valorsay 
and  the  Viscount  de  Coralth,  his  housekeeper,  austere 
Madame  Dodelin,  handed  him  Mademoiselle  Mar- 
guerite's letter.  He  read  it  with  intense  astonishment, 
rubbing  his  eyes  as  if  to  assure  himself  that  he  were 
really  awake.  "  Tuesday,"  he  repeated,  "  the  day  after 
to-morrow — at  your  house — between  three  and  four 
o'clock — I  must  speak  with  you." 

His  manner  was  so  strange,  and  his  usually  impassive 
face  so  disturbed  by  conflicting  feelings,  that  Madame 
Dodelin's  curiosity  overcame  her  prudence,  and  she  re- 
mained standing  in  front  of  him  with  open  mouth, 
staring  with  all  her  eyes  and  listening  with  all  her  ears. 
He  perceived  this,  and  angrily  exclaimed  :  "What  are 
you  doing  here?     You  are  watching  me,  I  do  believe. 

Get  back  to  your  kitchen,  or " 

She  fled  in  alarm,  and  he  then  entered  his  private 
office.    His  heart  was  leaping  with  joy,  and  he  laughed 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE     179 

wickedly  at  the  hope  of  a  speedy  revenge.  "  She's  on 
the  scent,"  he  muttered  ;  "  and  she  has  luck  in  her  favor. 
She  has  chanced  to  apply  to  me  on  the  very  day  that  I 
had  resolved  to  defend  and  rehabilitate  her  lover,  the 
honest  fool  who  allowed  himself  to  be  dishonored  by 
those  unscrupulous  blackguards.  Just  as  I  was  think- 
ing of  going  in  search  of  her,  she  comes  to  me.  As 
I  was  about  to  write  to  her,  she  writes  to  me.  Who 
can  deny  the  existence  of  Providence  after  this?  "  Like 
many  other  people,  M.  Fortunat  piously  believed  in 
Providence  when  things  went  to  his  liking,  but  it  is  sad 
to  add  that  in  the  contrary  case  he  denied  its  existence. 
*'  If  she  has  any  courage,"  he  resumed,  "  and  she  seems 
to  have  plenty  of  it,  Valorsay  and  Coralth  will  be  in  a 
tight  place  soon.  And  if  it  takes  ten  thousand  francs 
to  put  them  there,  and  if  neither  Mademoiselle  Mar- 
guerite nor  M.  Ferailleur  has  the  amount — ah,  well  ! 
I'll  advance — well,  at  least  five  thousand — without 
charging  them  any  commission.  I'll  even  pay  the  ex- 
penses out  of  my  own  pocket,  if  necessary.  Ah,  my  fine 
fellows,  you've  laughed  too  soon.  In  a  week's  time 
we'll  see  who  laughs  last." 

He  paused,  for  Victor  Chupin,  who  had  lingered  be- 
hind to  pay  the  driver,  had  just  entered  the  room. 
"  You  gave  me  twenty  francs,  m'sieur,"  he  remarked  to 
his  employer.  "  I  paid  the  driver  four  francs  and  five 
sous,  here's  the  change." 

"  Keep  it  yourself,  Victor,"  said  M.  Fortunat. 

What!  keep  fifteen  francs  and  fifteen  sous?  Under 
any  other  circumstances  such  unusual  generosity  would 
have  drawn  a  grimace  of  satisfaction  from  young 
Chupin.  But  to-day  he  did  not  even  smile;  he  slipped 
the  money  carelessly  into  his  pocket,  and  scarcely 
deigned  to  say  "  thanks,"  in  the  coldest  possible  tone. 


180    BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

Absorbed  in  thought,  M.  Fortunat  did  not  remark 
this  Httle  circumstance.  "  We  have  them,  Victor,"  he 
resumed.  "  I  told  you  that  Valorsay  and  Coralth  should 
pay  me  for  their  treason.  Vengeance  is  near.  Read 
this  letter."  Victor  read  it  slowly,  and  as  soon  as  he 
had  finished  his  employer  ejaculated,  "Well?" 

But  Chupin  was  not  a  person  to  give  advice  lightly. 
"  Excuse  me,  m'sieur,"  said  he,  "  but  in  order  to 
answer  you,  I  must  have  some  knowledge  of  the  affair. 
I  only  know  what  you've  told  me — which  is  little 
enough — and  what  I've  guessed.  In  fact,  I  know 
nothing  at  all." 

M.  Fortunat  reflected  for  a  moment.  "  You  are 
right,  Victor,"  he  said,  at  last.  "  So  far  the  explana- 
tion I  gave  you  was  all  that  was  necessary;  but  now 
that  I  expect  more  important  services  from  you,  I  ought 
to  tell  you  the  whole  truth,  or  at  least  all  I  know  about 
the  affair.  This  will  prove  my  great  confidence  in 
you."  Whereupon,  he  acquainted  Chupin  with  every- 
thing he  knew  concerning  the  history  of  M.  de  Chalusse, 
the  Marquis  de  Valorsay,  and  Mademoiselle  Marguerite. 

However,  if  he  expected  these  disclosures  to  elevate 
him  in  his  subordinate's  estimation  he  was  greatly  mis- 
taken. Chupin  had  sufficient  experience  and  common 
sense  to  read  his  master's  character  and  discern  his 
motives.  He  saw  plainly  enough  that  this  honest  im- 
pulse on  M.  Fortunat's  part  came  from  disappointed 
avarice  and  wounded  vanity,  and  that  the  agent  would 
have  allowed  the  Marquis  de  Valorsay  to  carry  out  his 
infamous  scheme  without  any  compunctions  of  con- 
science, providing  he,  himself,  had  not  been  injured  by 
it.  Still,  the  young  fellow  did  not  allow  his  real  feel- 
ings to  appear  on  his  face.  First,  it  was  not  his  busi- 
ness to  tell  M.  Fortunat  his  opinion  of  him  ;  and  in  the 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE     181 

second  place,  he  did  not  deem  it  an  opportune  moment 
for  a  declaration  of  his  sentiments.  So,  when  his  em- 
ployer paused,  he  exclaimed  :  "  Well,  we  must  outwit 
these  scoundrels — for  I'll  join  you,  m'sieur  ;  and  I  flatter 
myself  that  I  can  be  very  useful  to  you.  Do  you  want 
the  particulars  of  the  viscount's  past  life?  If  so,  I 
can  furnish  them.  I  know  the  brigand.  He's  married, 
as  I  told  you  before,  and  I'll  find  his  wife  for  you  in 
a  few  days.  I  don't  know  exactly  where  she  lives,  but 
she  keeps  a  tobacco  store,  somewhere,  and  that's 
enough.  She'll  tell  you  how  much  he's  a  viscount. 
Ha  !  ha  !  Viscount  just  as  much  as  I  am — and  no 
more.    I  can  tell  you  the  scrapes  he  has  been  in." 

"No  doubt  ;  but  the  most  important  thing  is  to  know 
how  he's  living  now,  and  on  what  !  " 

"  Not  by  honest  work,  I  can  tell  you.  But  give  me 
a  little  time,  and  I'll  find  out  for  sure.  As  soon  as  I 
can  go  home,  change  my  clothes,  and  disguise  myself, 
I'll  start  after  him;  and  may  I  be  hung,  if  I  don't  re- 
turn with  a  complete  report  before  Tuesday." 

A  smile  of  satisfaction  appeared  on  M.  Fortunat's 
face.  "  Good,  Victor  !  "  he  said,  approvingly,  "  very 
good  !  I  see  that  you  will  serve  me  with  your  usual 
zeal  and  intelligence.  Rest  assured  that  you  will  be 
rewarded  as  you  have  never  been  rewarded  before. 
As  long  as  you  are  engaged  in  this  affair,  you  shall 
have  ten  francs  a  day;  and  I'll  pay  your  board,  your 
cab-hire,  and  all  your  expenses." 

This  was  a  most  liberal  offer,  and  yet,  far  from 
seeming  delighted,  Chupin  gravely  shook  his  head. 
"  You  know  how  I  value  money,  m'sieur,"  he  began. 

"  Too  much,  Victor,  my  boy,  too  much " 

"  Excuse  me,  it's  because  I  have  responsibilities, 
m'sieur.     You  know  my  establishment" — he  spoke  this 


182     BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

word  with  a  grandiloquent  air — "  you  have  seen  my 
good  mother — my  expenses  are  heavy " 

"  In  short,  you  don't  think  I  offer  you  enough?  " 

"  On  the  contrary,  sir — but  you  don't  allow  me  to 
finish.  I  love  money,  don't  I  ?  But  no  matter,  I  don't 
want  to  be  paid  for  this  business.  I  don't  want  either 
my  board  or  my  expenses,  not  a  penny — nothing.  I'll 
serve  you,  but  for  my  own  sake,  for  my  own  pleasure 
— ^gratis." 

M.  Fortunat  could  not  restrain  an  exclamation  of 
astonishment.  Chupin,  who  was  as  eager  for  gain  as 
an  old  usurer — Chupin,  as  grasping  as  avarice  itself, 
refuse  money  !  This  was  something  which  he  had 
never  seen  before,  and  which  he  would  no  doubt  never 
see  again, 

Victor  had  become  very  much  excited;  his  usually 
pale  cheeks  were  crimson,  and  in  a  harsh  voice,  he  con- 
tinued :  "It's  a  fancy  of  mine — that's  all.  I  have  eight 
hundred  francs  hidden  in  my  room,  the  fruit  of  years 
of  work.  I'll  spend  the  last  penny  of  it  if  need  be; 
and  if  I  can  see  Coralth  in  the  mire,  I  shall  say,  *  My 
money  has  been  well  expended.'  I'd  rather  see  that 
day  dawn  than  be  the  possessor  of  a  hundred  thousand 
francs.  If  a  horrible  vision  haunted  you  every  night, 
and  prevented  you  from  sleeping,  wouldn't  you  give 
something  to  get  rid  of  it  ?  Very  well  !  that  brigand's 
my  nightmare.     There  must  be  an  end  to  it." 

M.  de  Coralth,  who  was  a  man  of  wide  experience, 
would  certainly  have  felt  alarmed  if  he  had  seen  his 
unknown  enemy  at  the  present  moment,  for  Victor's 
eyes,  usually  a  pale  and  undecided  blue,  were  glitter- 
ing like  steel,  and  his  hands  were  clinched  most  threat- 
eningly. "  For  he  was  the  cause  of  all  my  trouble," 
he  continued,  gloomily.    "  I've  told  you,  sir,  that  I  was 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE     183 

guilty  of  an  infamous  deed  once  upon  a  time.  If  it 
hadn't  been  for  a  miracle  I  should  have  killed  a  man — 
the  king  of  men.  Ah,  well  !  if  Monsieur  André  had 
broken  his  back  by  falling  from  a  fifth-floor  window, 
my  Coralth  would  be  the  Due  de  Champdoce  to-day. 
And  shall  he  be  allowed  to  ride  about  in  his  carriage, 
and  deceive  and  ruin  honest  people?  No — there  are 
too  many  such  villains  at  large  for  public  safety.  Wait 
a  little,  Coralth — I  owe  you  something,  and  I  always 
pay  my  debts.  When  M.  André  saved  me,  though  I 
richly  deserved  to  have  my  throat  cut,  he  made  no  con- 
ditions. He  only  said,  '  If  you  are  not  irredeemably 
bad  you  will  be  honest  after  this.'  And  he  said  these 
words  as  he  was  lying  there  as  pale  as  death  with  his 
shoulder  broken,  and  his  body  mangled  from  his  fall. 
Great  heavens  !  I  felt  smaller  than — than  nothing  be- 
fore him.  But  I  swore  that  I  would  do  honor  to  his 
teachings — and  when  evil  thoughts  enter  my  mind,  and 
when  I  feel  a  thirst  for  liquor,  I  say  to  myself,  '  Wait 
a  bit,  and — and  M.  André  will  take  a  glass  with  you.' 
And  that  quenches  my  thirst  instantly.  I  have  his 
portrait  at  home,  and  every  night,  before  going  to  bed, 
I  tell  him  the  history  of  the  day — and  sometimes  I 
fancy  that  he  smiles  at  me.  All  this  is  very  absurd, 
perhaps,  but  I'm  not  ashamed  of  it.  M.  André  and  my 
good  mother,  they  are  my  supports,  my  crutches,  and 
with  them  I'm  not  afraid  of  making  a  false  step." 
Schebel,  the  German  philosopher,  who  has  written  a 
treatise  on  Volition,  in  four  volumes,  was  no  greater  a 
man  than  Chupin.  "  So  you  may  keep  your  money, 
sir,"  he  resumed.  "  I'm  an  honest  fellow,  and  honest 
men  ought  to  ask  no  reward  for  the  performance  of  a 
duty.  Coralth  mustn't  be  allowed  to  triumph  over  the 
innocent  chap   he   ruined.     What  did  you   call  him? 


184    BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

Ferailleur?  It's  an  odd  name.  Never  mind — we'll  get 
him  out  of  this  scrape;  he  shall  marry  his  sweetheart 
after  all;  and  I'll  dance  at  the  wedding." 

As  he  finished  speaking  he  laughed  a  shrill,  danger- 
ous laugh,  which  revealed  his  sharp  teeth — but  such 
invincible  determination  was  apparent  on  his  face,  that 
M.  Fortunat  felt  no  misgivings.  He  was  sure  that  this 
volunteer  would  be  of  more  service  than  the  highest- 
priced  hireling.  "  So  I  can  count  on  you,  Victor?  "  he 
inquired. 

"  As  upon  yourself." 

"  And  you  hope  to  have  some  positive  infonnation 
by  Tuesday  ?  " 

"  Before  then,  I  hope,  if  nothing  goes  amiss." 

"  Very  well  ;  I  will  devote  my  attention  to  Ferailleur 
then.  As  to  Valorsay's  affairs,  I  am  better  acquainted 
with  them  than  he  is  himself.  We  must  be  prepared  to 
enter  upon  the  campaign  when  Mademoiselle  Mar- 
guerite comes,  and  we  will  act  in  accordance  with  her 
instructions." 

Chupin  had  already  caught  up  his  hat;  but  just  as 
he  was  leaving  the  room,  he  paused  abruptly.  "  How 
stupid  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  I  had  forgotten  the  principal 
thing.     Where  does  Coralth  live  ?  " 

"  Unfortunately,  I  don't  know." 

According  to  his  habit  when  things  did  not  go  to  his 
liking,  Chupin  began  to  scratch  his  head  furiously. 
"  That's  bad,"  growled  he.  "  Viscounts  of  his  stamp 
don't  parade  their  addresses  in  the  directory.  Still,  I 
shall  find  him."  However,  although  he  expressed  this 
conviction  he  went  off  decidedly  out  of  temper. 

"  I  shall  lose  the  entire  evening  hunting  up  the  ras- 
cal's address,"  he  grumbled,  as  he  hastened  homeward. 
"  And  whom  shall  I  ask  for  it  ? — Madame  d'Argelès's 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE     185 

concierge?  Would  he  know  it — M.  Wilkie's  servant? 
That  would  be  dangerous."  He  thought  of  roaming 
round  about  M.  de  Valorsay's  residence,  and  of  bribing 
one  of  the  valets  ;  but  while  crossing  the  boulevard,  the 
sight  of  Brebant's  Restaurant  put  a  new  idea  into  his 
head.  "  I  have  it  !  "  he  muttered  ;  "  my  man's  caught  !  " 
And  he  darted  into  the  nearest  cafe  where  he  ordered 
some  beer  and  writing  materials. 

Under  other  circumstances,  he  would  have  hesitated 
to  employ  so  hazardous  an  expedient  as  the  one  he  was 
about  to  resort  to,  but  the  character  of  his  adversaries 
justified  any  course;  besides,  time  was  passing,  and  he 
had  no  choice  of  resources.  As  soon  as  the  waiter 
served  him,  he  drained  his  glass  of  beer  to  give  himself 
an  inspiration,  and  then,  in  his  finest  hand,  he  wrote  : 

"AIy  Dear  Viscount — Here's  the  amount — one  hun- 
dred francs — that  I  lost  to  you  last  evening  at  piquet. 
When  shall  I  have  my  revenge?  Your  friend, 

Valorsay." 

When  he  had  finished  this  letter  he  read  it  over  three 
or  four  times,  asking  himself  if  this  were  the  style  of 
composition  that  very  fashionable  folks  employ  in  re- 
paying their  debts.  To  tell  the  truth,  he  doubted .  it. 
In  the  rough  draft  which  he  penned  at  first,  he  had 
written  bezique,  but  in  the  copy  he  wrote  piquet,  which 
he  deemed  a  more  aristocratic  game.  "  However,"  said 
he,  "  no  one  will  examine  it  closely  !  " 

Then,  as  soon  as  the  ink  was  dry,  he  folded  the  letter 
and  slipped  it  into  an  envelope  with  a  hundred  franc- 
note  which  he  drew  from  an  old  pocketbook.  He  next 
addressed  the  envelope  as  follows  :  "  Monsieur  le 
Vicomte  de  Coralth,  En  Ville,"  and  having  completed 
his  preparations,  he  paid  his   score,  and  hastened  to 


186    BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

Brcbant's  Two  waiters  were  standing  at  the  doorway, 
and,  showing  them  the  letter,  he  politely  asked  :  "  Do 
you  happen  to  know  this  name?  A  gentleman  dropped 
this  letter  on  leaving  your  place  last  evening.  I 
ran  after  him  to  return  it;  but  I  couldn't  overtake 
him." 

The  waiters  examined  the  address.  "  Coralth  !  "  they 
replied.  "  We  scarcely  know  him.  He  isn't  a  regular 
customer,  but  he  comes  here  occasionally." 

"  And  where  does  he  live?  " 

"  Why  do  you  wish  to  know  ?  " 

"  So  as  to  take  him  this  letter,  to  be  sure  !  " 

The  waiters  shrugged  their  shoulders.  "  Let  the  let- 
ter go;  it  is  not  worth  while  to  trouble  yourself." 

Chupin  had  foreseen  this  objection,  and  was  prepared 
for  it.  "  But  there's  money  in  the  letter,"  he  remon- 
strated. And  opening  the  envelope,  he  showed  the 
bank-note  which  he  had  taken  from  his  own  pocket- 
book. 

This  changed  the  matter  entirely.  "  That  is  quite  a 
different  thing,"  remarked  one  of  the  waiters.  "  If  you 
find  money,  you  are,  of  course,  responsible  for  it.  But 
just  leave  it  here  at  the  desk,  and  the  next  time  the 
viscount  comes  in,  the  cashier  will  give  it  to  him." 

A  cold  chill  crept  over  Chupin  at  the  thought  of 
losing  his  bank-note  in  this  way.  "  Ah  !  I  don't  fancy 
that  idea!"  he  exclaimed.  "Leave  it  here?  Never 
in  life!  Who'd  get  the  reward?  A  viscount  is 
always  generous;  it  is  quite  likely  he  would  give  me 
twenty  francs  as  a  reward  for  my  honesty.  And  that's 
why  I  want  his  address." 

The  argument  was  of  a  nature  to  touch  the  waiters  ; 
they  thought  the  young  man  quite  right  ;  but  they  did 
not  know  M.   de  Coralth's  address,  and  they  saw  no 


BAROX    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE     187 

way  of  procuring  it.  "  Unless  perhaps  the  porter 
knows,"  observed  one  of  them. 

The  porter,  on  being  called,  remembered  that  he  had 
once  been  sent  to  M.  de  Coralth's  house  for  an  over- 
coat. **  I've  forgotten  his  number,"  he  declared  ;  "  but 
he  lives  in  the  Rue  d'Anjou,  near  the  corner  of  the 
Rue  de  la  Ville  l'Evéque." 

This  direction  was  not  remarkable  for  its  precision, 
but  it  was  more  than  sufficient  for  a  pure-blooded  Pari- 
sian like  Victor  Chupin.  "  Alany  thanks  for  your  kind- 
ness," he  said  to  the  porter.  "  A  blind  man,  perhaps, 
might  not  be  able  to  go  straight  to  M.  de  Coralth's 
house  from  your  directions,  but  I  have  eyes  and  a 
tongue  as  well.  And,  believe  me,  if  there's  any  re- 
ward, you  shall  see  that  I  know  how  to  repay  a  good 
turn." 

"  And  if  you  don't  find  the  viscount,"  added  the 
waiters,  "  bring  the  money  here,  and  it  will  be  returned 
to  him." 

"  Naturally  !  "  replied  Chupin.  And  he  strode  hur- 
riedly away.  "  Return  !  "  he  muttered  ;  "  not  I  !  I 
thought  for  a  moment  they  had  their  hands  on  my 
precious  bank-note." 

But  he  had  already  recovered  from  his  fright,  and  as 
he  turned  his  steps  homeward  he  congratulated  himself 
on  the  success  of  his  stratagem.  "  For  my  viscount  is 
caught,"  he  said  to  himself.  "  The  Rue  d'Anjou  Saint 
Honoré  hasn't  a  hundred  numbers  in  it,  and  even  if 
I'm  compelled  to  go  from  door  to  door,  my  task  will 
soon  be  accomplished." 

On  reaching  home  he  found  his  mother  engaged  in 
knitting,  as  usual.  This  was  the  only  avocation  that 
her  almost  complete  blindness  allowed  her  to  pursue; 
and  she  followed  it  constantly.     "  Ah  !  here  you  are, 


188    BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

Toto,"  she  exclaimed,  joyously.  "  I  didn't  expect  you 
so  soon.  Don't  you  scent  a  savory  smell?  As  you  must 
be  greatly  tired  after  being  up  all  night,  I'm  making 
you  a  stew." 

As  customary  when  he  returned,  Chupin  embraced 
the  good  woman  with  the  respectful  tenderness  which 
had  so  surprised  M.  Fortunat.  "  You  are  always  kind," 
said  he,  "  but,  unfortunately,  I  can't  remain  to  dine 
with  you." 

"  But  you  promised  me." 

"  That's  true,  mamma  ;  but  business,  you  see — busi- 
ness." 

The  worthy  woman  shook  her  head.  "  Always  busi- 
ness !"  she  exclaimed. 

"  Yes — when  a  fellow  hasn't  ten  thousand  francs  a 
year." 

"  You  have  become  a  worker,  Toto,  and  that  makes 
me  very  happy;  but  you  are  too  eager  for  money,  and 
that  frightens  me." 

"  That's  to  say,  you  fear  I  shall  do  something  dis- 
honest. Ah  !  mother  !  do  you  think  I  can  forget  you 
and  Monsieur  André?" 

His  mother  said  no  more,  and  he  entered  the  tiny 
nook  which  he  so  pompously  styled  his  chamber,  and 
quickly  changed  the  clothes  he  was  wearing  (his  Sun- 
day toggery)  for  an  old  pair  of  checked  trousers,  a 
black  blouse,  and  a  glazed  cap.  And  when  he  had  fin- 
ished, and  given  a  peculiar  turn  to  his  hair,  no  one 
would  have  recognized  him.  In  place  of  M.  Fortunat's 
respectable  clerk,  there  appeared  one  of  those  vaga- 
bonds who  hang  about  cafes  and  theatres  from  six  in 
the  evening  till  midnight,  and  spend  the  rest  of  their 
time  playing  cards  in  the  low  drinking  dens  near  the 
barrières.     It  was  the  old  Chupin  come  to  life  once 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE     189 

more — Toto  Chupin  as  he  had  appeared  before  his 
conversion.  And  as  he  took  a  last  look  in  the  little 
glass  hanging  over  the  table,  he  was  himself  astonished 
at  the  transformation.  "  Ah  !  "  he  muttered,  "  I  was  a 
sorry  looking  devil  in  those  days." 

Although  he  had  cautiously  avoided  making  any 
noise  in  dressing,  his  mother,  with  the  wonderfully 
acute  hearing  of  the  blind,  had  followed  each  of  his 
movements  as  surely  as  if  she  had  been  standing  near 
watching  him.  "  You  have  changed  your  clothes,  Toto," 
she  remarked. 

"  Yes,  mother." 

"  But  why  have  you  put  on  your  blouse,  my  son  ?  " 

Although  accustomed  to  his  mother's  remarkable 
quickness  of  perception,  he  was  amazed.  Still  he  did 
not  think  of  denying  it.  She  would  only  have  to  ex- 
tend her  hand  to  prove  that  he  was  telling  a  falsehood. 
The  blind  woman's  usually  placid  face  had  become 
stern.  "  So  it  is  necessary  to  disguise  yourself,"  she 
said,  gravely. 

"  But,  mother " 

"  Hush,  my  son  !  When  a  man  doesn't  wish  to  be 
recognized,  he's  evidently  doing  something  he's 
ashamed  of.  Ever  since  your  employer  came  here,  you 
have  been  concealing  something  from  me.  Take  care, 
Toto  !  Since  I  heard  that  man's  voice,  I'm  sure  that 
he  is  quite  as  capable  of  urging  you  to  commit  a  crime 
as  others  were  in  days  gone  by." 

The  blind  woman  was  preaching  to  a  convert;  for 
during  the  past  three  days,  M.  Fortunat  had  shown 
himself  in  such  a  light  that  Chupin  had  secretly  re- 
solved to  change  his  employer.  "  I  promise  you  I'll 
leave  him,  mother,"  he  declared,  "  so  you  may  be  quite 
easy  in  mind." 


190    BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

"  Very  well  ;  but  now,  at  this  moment,  where  arc  you 
going?" 

There  was  only  one  way  of  completely  reassuring  the 
good  woman,  and  that  was  to  tell  her  all.  Chupin  did 
so  with  absolute  frankness.  "  Ah,  well  !  "  she  said, 
when  the  narrative  was  finished.  "  You  see  now  how 
easy  it  is  to  lead  you  astray  !  How  could  you  be  in- 
duced to  play  the  part  of  a  spy,  when  you  know  so 
well  what  it  leads  to?  It's  only  God's  protecting  care 
that  has  saved  you  again  from  an  act  which  you  would 
have  reproached  yourself  for  all  your  life.  Your  em- 
ployer's intentions  are  good  now  ;  but  they  were  crimi- 
nal when  he  ordered  you  to  follow  Madame  d'Argelès. 
Poor  woman  !  She  had  sacrificed  herself  for  her  son, 
she  had  concealed  herself  from  him,  and  you  were 
working  to  betray  her.  Poor  creature  !  how  she  must 
have  suffered,  and  how  much  I  pity  her  !  To  be  what 
she  is,  and  to  see  herself  denounced  by  her  own  son  ! 
I,  who  am  only  a  poor  plebeian,  should  die  of  shame 
imder  such  circumstances." 

Chupin  blew  his  nose  so  loudly  that  the  window- 
panes  rattled;  this  was  his  way  of  repressing  his  emo- 
tion whenever  it  threatened  to  overcome  him.  "  You 
speak  like  the  good  mother  that  you  are,"  he  exclaimed 
at  last,  "  and  I'm  prouder  of  you  than  if  you  were  the 
handsomest  and  richest  lady  in  Paris,  for  you're  cer- 
tainly the  most  honest  and  virtuous;  and  I  should  be 
a  thorough  scoundrel  if  I  caused  you  a  moment's  sor- 
row. And  if  ever  I  set  my  foot  in  such  a  mess  again, 
I  hope  some  one  will  cut  it  ofif.    But  for  this  once " 

"  For  this  once,  you  may  go,  Toto  ;  I  give  my 
consent." 

He  went  off  with  a  lighter  heart  ;  and  on  reaching  the 
Rue  d'Anjou  he  immediately  began  his  investigations. 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE     191 

They  were  not  successful  at  first.  At  every  house 
where  he  made  inquiries  nobody  had  any  knowledge  of 
the  Viscount  de  Coralth.  He  had  visited  half  the  build- 
ings in  the  street,  when  he  reached  one  of  the  hand- 
somest houses,  in  front  of  which  stood  a  cart  laden 
with  plants  and  flowers.  An  old  man,  who  seemed  to 
be  the  concierge,  and  a  valet  in  a  red  waistcoat,  were 
removing  the  plants  from  the  vehicle  and  arranging 
them  in  a  line  under  the  porte  cochcre.  As  soon  as  the 
cart  was  emptied,  it  drove  away,  whereupon  Chupin 
stepped  forward,  and  addressing  the  concierge,  asked  : 
"Does  the  Viscount  de  Coralth  live  here?  " 

"  Yes.    What  do  you  want  with  him  ?  " 

Having  foreseen  this  question,  Chupin  had  prepared 
a  reply.  "  I  certainly  don't  come  to  call  on  him,"  he 
answered.  "  My  reason  for  inquiring  is  this  :  just  now, 
as  I  passed  near  the  Aladeleine,  a  very  elegant  lady 
called  me,  and  said  :  '  M.  de  Coralth  lives  in  the  Rue 
d'Anjou,  but  I've  forgotten  the  number.  I  can't  go 
about  from  door  to  door  making  inquiries,  so  if 
you'll  go  there  and  ascertain  his  address  for  me,  I'll 
give  you  five  francs  for  yourself,'  so  my  money's 
made." 

Profiting  by  his  old  Parisian  experience,  Chupin  had 
chosen  such  a  clever  excuse  that  both  his  listeners 
heartily  laughed.  "  Well,  Father  Moulinet,"  cried  the 
servant  in  the  red  waistcoat,  "  what  do  you  say  to  that  ? 
Are  there  any  elegant  ladies  who  give  five  francs  for 
your  address  ? " 

"  Is  there  any  lady  who's  likely  to  send  such  flowers 
as  these  to  you?"  was  the  response. 

Chupin  was  about  to  retire  with  a  bow,  when  the 
concierge  stopped  him.  "  You  accomplish  your  errands 
so  well  that  perhaps  you'd  be  willing  to  take  these 


192     BAROX    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEAXXE 

flower-pots  up  to  the  second  floor,  if  we  gave  you  a 
glass  of  wine  !  " 

No  proposal  could  have  suited  Chupin  better.  Al- 
though he  was  prone  to  exaggerate  his  own  powers 
and  the  fecundity  of  his  resources,  he  had  not  flattered 
himself  with  the  hope  that  he  should  succeed  in  cross- 
ing the  threshold  of  j\I.  de  Coralth's  rooms.  For,  with- 
out any  great  mental  effort,  he  had  realized  that  the 
servant  arrayed  in  the  red  waistcoat  was  in  the  vis- 
count's employ,  and  these  flowers  were  to  be  carried 
to  his  apartments.  However  any  signs  of  satisfaction 
would  have  seemed  singular  under  the  circumstances, 
and  so  he  sulkily  replied  :  "  A  glass  of  wine  !  you  had 
better  say  two." 

"  Well,  I'll  say  a  whole  bottleful,  my  boy,  if  that 
suits  you  any  better,"  replied  the  servant,  with  the 
charming  good-nature  so  often  displayed  by  people 
who  are  giving  other  folk's  property  away. 

"  Then  I'm  at  your  service  !  "  exclaimed  Chupin. 
And,  loading  himself  with  a  host  of  flower-pots  as  skil- 
fully as  if  he  had  been  accustomed  to  handling  them 
all  his  life,  he  added  :  "  Now,  lead  the  way." 

The  valet  and  the  concierge  preceded  him  with  empty 
hands,  of  course;  and,  on  reaching  the  second  floor, 
they  opened  a  door,  and  said  :  "  This  is  the  place. 
Come  in." 

Chupin  had  expected  to  find  that  M.  de  Coralth's 
apartments  were  handsomer  than  his  own  in  the  Fau- 
bourg Saint  Denis  ;  but  he  had  scarcely  imagined  such 
luxury  as  pervaded  this  establishment.  The  chandeliers 
seemed  marvels  in  his  eyes  ;  and  the  sumptuous  chairs 
and  couches  eclipsed  M.  Fortunat's  wonderful  sofa 
completely.  "  So  he  no  longer  amuses  himself  with 
petty  rascalities,"  thought  Chupin,  as  he  surveyed  the 


BARON   TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE    193 

rooms.  "  Monsieur's  working  on  a  grand  scale  now. 
Decidedly  this  mustn't  be  allowed  to  continue." 

Thereupon  he  busied  himself  placing  the  flowers  in 
the  numerous  jardinières  scattered  about  the  rooms,  as 
well  as  in  a  tiny  conservatory,  cleverly  contrived  on  the 
balcony,  and  adjoining  a  little  apartment  with  silk  hang- 
ings, that  was  used  as  a  smoking-room.  Under  the 
surveillance  of  the  concierge  and  the  valet  he  was 
allowed  to  visit  the  whole  apartments.  He  admired  the 
drawing-room,  filled  to  overflowing  with  costly  trifles; 
the  dining-room,  furnished  in  old  oak;  the  luxurious 
bed-room  with  its  bed  mounted  upon  a  platform,  as  if 
it  were  a  throne,  and  the  library  filled  with  richly  bound 
volumes.  Everything  was  beautiful,  sumptuous  and 
magnificent,  and  Chupin  admired,  though  he  did  not 
envy,  this  luxury.  He  said  to  himself  that,  if  ever  he 
became  rich,  his  establishment  should  be  quite  different. 
He  would  have  preferred  rather  more  simplicity,  a 
trifle  less  satin,  velvet,  hangings,  mirrors  and  gilding. 
Still  this  did  not  prevent  him  from  going  into  ecstasies 
over  each  room  he  entered;  and  he  expressed  his  ad- 
miration so  artlessly  that  the  valet,  feeling  as  much 
flattered  as  if  he  were  the  owner  of  the  place,  took  a 
sort  of  pride  in  exhibiting  everything. 

He  showed  Chupin  the  target  which  the  viscount 
practised  at  with  pistols  for  an  hour  every  morning; 
for  ]\Ionsieur  le  Vicomte  was  a  capital  marksman,  and 
could  lodge  eight  balls  out  of  ten  in  the  neck  of  a 
bottle  at  a  distance  of  twenty  paces.  He  also  displayed 
his  master's  swords;  for  Monsieur  le  Vicomte  handled 
side  arms  as  adroitly  as  pistols.  He  took  a  lesson 
every  day  from  one  of  the  best  fencing-masters  in 
Pan's  ;  and  his  duels  had  always  terminated  fortunately. 
He  also  showed  the  viscount's  blue  velvet  dressing- 


194    BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

gown,  his  fur-trimmed  slippers,  and  even  his  elabor- 
ately embroidered  night-shirts.  But  it  was  the  dress- 
ing-room that  most  astonished  and  stupefied  Chupin. 
He  stood  gazing  in  open-mouthed  wonder  at  the  im- 
mense white  marble  table,  with  its  water  spigots  and 
its  basins,  its  sponges  and  boxes,  its  pots  and  vials 
and  cups;  and  he  counted  the  brushes  by  the  dozen — 
brushes  hard  and  soft,  brushes  for  the  hair,  for  the 
beard,  for  the  hands,  and  the  application  of  cosmetic  to 
the  mustaches  and  eyebrows.  Never  had  he  seen  in 
one  collection  such  a  variety  of  steel  and  silver  in- 
struments, knives,  pincers,  scissors,  and  files.  "  One 
might  think  oneself  in  a  chiropodist's,  or  a  dentist's 
establishment,"  remarked  Chupin  to  the  servant.  "  Does 
your  master  use  all  these  every  day?  " 

"  Certainly,  or  rather  twice  a  day — morning  and 
evening — at  his  toilette." 

Chupin  expressed  his  feelings  with  a  grimace  and  an 
exclamation  of  mocking  wonder.  "  Ah,  well  !  he  must 
have  a  clean  skin,"  he  said. 

His  listeners  laughed  heartily;  and  the  concierge, 
after  exchanging  a  significant  glance  with  the  valet, 
said  sotto  voce,  "  Zounds  !  it's  his  business  to  be  a  hand- 
some fellow  !  "     The  mystery  was  solved. 

While  Chupin  changed  the  contents  of  the  jar- 
dinières, and  remained  upstairs  in  the  intervals  between 
the  nine  or  ten  journeys  he  made  to  the  porte-cochere 
for  more  flowers,  he  listened  attentively  to  the  conver- 
sation between  the  concierge  and  the  valet,  and  heard 
snatches  of  sentences  that  enlightened  him  wonderfully. 
Moreover,  whenever  a  question  arose  as  to  placing  a 
plant  in  one  place  rather  than  another,  the  valet  stated 
as  a  conclusive  argument  that  the  baroness  liked  it  in 
such  or  such  a  place,  or  that  she  would  be  better  pleased 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE     195 

with  this  or  that  arrangement,  or  that  he  must  comply 
with  the  instructions  she  had  given  him.  Chupin  was 
therefore  obhged  to  conclude  that  the  flowers  had  been 
sent  here  by  a  baroness  who  possessed  certain  rights 
in  the  establishment.    But  who  was  she? 

He  was  manœuvering  cleverly  in  the  hope  of  ascer- 
taining this  point,  w^hen  a  carriage  was  heard  driving 
into  the  courtyard  below.  "  Monsieur  must  have  re- 
turned !  "  exclaimed  the  valet,  darting  to  the  window. 

Chupin  also  ran  to  look  out,  and  saw  a  very  elegant 
blue-lined  brougham,  drawn  by  a  superb  horse,  but  he 
did  not  perceive  the  viscount.  In  point  of  fact,  M.  de 
Coralth  was  already  climbing  the  stairs,  four  at  a  time, 
and,  a  moment  later,  he  entered  the  room,  angrily  ex- 
claiming, "  Florent,  what  does  this  mean  ?  Why  have 
you  left  all  the  doors  open  ?  " 

Florent  was  the  servant  in  the  red  waistcoat.  He 
slightly  shrugged  his  shoulders  like  a  servant  who 
knows  too  many  of  his  master's  secrets  to  have  any- 
thing to  fear,  and  in  the  calmest  possible  tone  replied, 
"  H  the  doors  are  open,  it  is  only  because  the  baroness 
has  just  sent  some  flowers.  On  Sunday,  too,  what  a 
funny  idea  !  And  I  have  been  treating  Father  Moulinet 
and  this  worthy  fellow  "  (pointing  to  Chupin)  "  to  a 
glass  of  wine,  to  acknowledge  their  kindness  in  assist- 
ing me." 

Fearing  recognition,  Chupin  hid  his  face  as  much  as 
possible;  but  M.  de  Coralth  did  not  pay  the  slightest 
attention  to  him.  There  was  a  dark  frown  on  his  hand- 
some, usually  smiling  countenance,  and  his  hair  was  in 
great  disorder.  Evidently  enough,  something  had 
greatly  annoyed  him.  "  I  am  going  out  again,"  he  re- 
marked to  his  valet,  "  but  first  of  all  I  must  write  two 
letters  which  you  must  deliver  immediately." 


196    BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

He  passed  into  the  drawing-room  as  he  spoke,  and 
Florent  scarcely  waited  till  the  door  was  closed  before 
uttering  an  oath.  "  May  the  devil  take  him  !  "  he  ex- 
claimed. "  Here  he  sets  me  on  the  go  again.  It  is  five 
o'clock,  too,  and  I  have  an  appointment  in  half  an 
hour." 

A  sudden  hope  quickened  the  throbbings  of  Chupin's 
heart.  He  touched  the  valet's  arm,  and  in  his  most 
persuasive  tone  remarked  :  "  I've  nothing  to  do,  and  as 
your  wine  was  so  good,  I'll  do  your  errands  for  you,  if 
you'll  pay  me  for  the  wear  and  tear  of  shoe-leather." 

Chupin's  appearance  must  have  inspired  confidence, 
for  the  servant  replied  : — "  Well — I  don't  refuse — but 
we'll  see." 

The  viscount  did  not  spend  much  time  in  writing  ;  he 
speedily  reappeared  holding  two  letters  which  he  flung 
upon  the  table,  saying  :  "  One  of  these  is  for  the 
baroness.  You  must  deliver  it  into  her  hands  or  into 
the  hands  of  her  maid — there  will  be  no  answer.  You 
will  afterward  take  the  other  to  the  person  it  is  ad- 
dressed to,  and  you  must  wait  for  an  answer  which 
you  will  place  on  my  writing-table — and  make  haste." 
So  saying,  the  viscount  went  off  as  he  had  entered — 
on  the  run — and  a  moment  later,  his  brougham  was 
heard  rolling  out  of  the  courtyard. 

Florent  was  crimson  with  rage.  "  There,"  said  he, 
addressing  Chupin  rather  than  the  concierge,  "  what  did 
I  tell  you?  A  letter  to  be  placed  in  madame's  own 
hands  or  in  the  hands  of  her  maid,  and  to  be  concealed 
from  the  baron,  who  is  on  the  watch,  of  course.  Nat- 
urally no  one  can  execute  that  commission  but 
myself." 

"  That's  true!  "  replied  Chupin;  "  but  how  about  the 
other?" 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE     197 

The  valet  had  not  yet  examined  the  second  letter.  He 
now  took  it  from  the  table,  and  glanced  at  the  address. 
"  Ah,"  said  he,  "  I  can  confide  this  one  to  you,  my  good 
fellow,  and  it's  very  fortunate,  for  it  is  to  be  taken  to 
a  place  on  the  other  side  of  the  river.  Upon  my  word  ! 
masters  are  strange  creatures  !  You  manage  your  work 
so  as  to  have  a  little  leisure,  and  the  moment  you  think 
yourself  free,  pouf  ! — they  send  you  anywhere  in  crea- 
tion without  even  asking  if  it  suits  your  convenience. 
If  it  hadn't  been  for  you,  I  should  have  missed  a  dinner 
with  some  very  charming  ladies.  But,  above  all,  don't 
loiter  on  the  way.  I  don't  mind  paying  your  omnibus 
fare  if  you  like.  And  you  heard  him  say  there  would 
be  an  answer.  You  can  give  it  to  Moulinet,  and  in 
exchange,  he'll  give  you  fifteen  sous  for  your  trouble, 
and  six  sous  for  your  omnibus  fare.  Besides,  if  you 
can  extract  anything  from  the  party  the  letter's  intended 
for,  you  are  quite  welcome  to  it." 

"  Agreed,  sir  !  Grant  me  time  enough  to  give  an 
answer  to  the  lady  who  is  waiting  at  the  Madeleine,  and 
I'm  on  my  way.    Give  me  the  letter." 

"  Here  it  is,"  said  the  valet,  handing  it  to  Chupin. 
But  as  the  latter  glanced  at  the  address  he  turned 
deadly  pale,  and  his  eyes  almost  started  from  their 
sockets.  For  this  is  what  he  read  :  "  Madame  Paul. 
Dealer  in  Tobacco.  Quai  de  la  Seine."  Great  as  was 
his  self-control,  his  emotion  was  too  evident  to  escape 
notice.  "  What's  the  matter  with  you  ?  "  asked  the 
concierge  and  the  valet  in  the  same  breath.  "  What  has 
happened  to  you  ?  " 

A  powerful  effort  of  will  restored  this  young  fellow's 
coolness,  and  ready  in  an  instant  with  an  excuse  for 
his  blunder,  he  replied,  "  I  have  changed  my  mind. 
What!   you'd   only  give  me  fifteen   sous  to  measure 


198     BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

such  a  distance  as  that!  Why,  it  isn't  a  walk — it's  a 
journey  !  " 

His  explanation  was  accepted  without  demur.  His 
listeners  thought  he  was  only  taking  advantage  of  the 
need  they  had  of  his  services — as  was  perfectly  natural 
under  the  circumstances.  "  What  !  So  you  are  dis- 
satisfied !  "  cried  the  valet.  "  Very  well  !  you  shall 
have  thirty  sous — but  be  off  !  " 

"  So  I  will,  at  once,"  replied  Chupin.  And,  imitating 
the  whistle  of  a  locomotive  with  wonderful  perfection, 
he  darted  away  at  a  pace  which  augured  a  speedy  return. 

However,  when  he  was  some  twenty  yards  from  the 
house  he  stopped  short,  glanced  around  him,  and 
espying  a  dark  corner  slipped  into  it.  "  That  fool  in 
the  red  waistcoat  will  be  coming  out  to  take  the  letter 
to  that  famous  baroness,"  he  thought.  "  I'm  here,  and 
I'll  watch  him  and  see  where  he  goes.  I  should  like  to 
find  out  the  name  of  the  kind  and  charitable  lady  who 
watches  over  his  brigand  of  a  master  with  such  tender 
care." 

The  day  and  the  hour  were  in  his  favor.  Night  was 
coming  on,  hastened  by  a  thick  fog;  the  street  lamps 
were  not  yet  lighted,  and  as  it  was  Sunday  most  of 
the  shops  were  closed.  It  grew  dark  so  rapidly  that 
Chupin  was  scarcely  able  to  recognize  Florent  when  he 
at  last  emerged  from  the  house.  It  is  true  that  he 
looked  altogether  unlike  the  servant  in  the  red  waist- 
coat. As  he  had  the  key  to  the  wardrobe  containing 
his  master's  clothes,  he  did  not  hesitate  to  use  them 
whenever  an  opportunity  offered.  On  this  occasion  he 
had  appropriated  a  pair  of  those  delicately  tinted 
trousers  which  were  M.  de  Coralth's  specialty,  with  a 
handsome  overcoat,  a  trifle  too  small  for  him,  and  a 
very  elegant  hat. 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE     199 

"  Fine  doings,  indeed  !  "  growled  Chupin  as  he 
started  in  pursuit.  "  My  servants  sha'n't  serve  me  in 
that  way  if  I  ever  have  any." 

But  he  paused  in  his  soHloquy,  and  prudently  hid 
himself  under  a  neighboring  gateway.  The  gorgeous 
Florent  was  ringing  at  the  door  of  one  of  the  most 
magnificent  mansions  in  the  Rue  de  la  Ville  l'Evèque. 
The  door  was  opened,  and  he  went  in.  "  Ah  !  ah  !  " 
thought  Chupin,  "  he  hadn't  far  to  go.  The  viscount 
and  the  baroness  are  shrewd.  When  you  have  flowers 
to  send  to  anybody  it's  convenient  to  be  neighbors  !  " 

He  glanced  round,  and  seeing  an  old  man  smoking 
his  pipe  on  the  threshold  of  a  shop,  he  approached  him 
and  asked  politely  :  "  Can  you  tell  me  whom  that  big 
house  belongs  to  ?  " 

"  To  Baron  Trigault,"  replied  the  man,  without  re- 
leasing his  hold  on  his  pipe. 

"  Thank  you,  monsieur,"  replied  Chupin,  gravely.  "  I 

inquired,  because  I  think  of  buying  a  house "    And 

repeating  the  name  of  Trigault  several  times  to  im- 
press it  upon  his  memory  he  darted  off  on  his  errand. 

It  might  be  supposed  that  his  unexpected  success  had 
delighted  him,  but,  on  the  contrary,  it  rendered  him 
even  more  exacting.  The  letter  he  carried  burned  his 
pocket  like  a  red-hot  iron.  "  Madame  Paul,"  he  mut- 
tered, "  that  must  be  the  rascal's  wife.  First,  Paul  is 
his  Christian  name;  secondly,  I've  been  told  that  his 
wife  keeps  a  tobacco  shop — so  the  case  is  plain.  But 
the  strangest  thing  about  it  is  that  this  husband  and 
wife  should  write  to  each  other,  when  I  fancied  them 
at  dagger's  ends."  Chupin  would  have  given  a  pint  of 
his  own  blood  to  know  the  contents  of  the  missive. 
The  idea  of  opening  it  occurred  to  him,  and  it  must  be 
confessed  that  it  was  not  a  feeling  of  delicacy  that  pre- 


200     BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

vented  him.  He  was  deterred  by  a  large  seal  which 
had  been  carefully  affixed,  and  which  would  plainly 
furnish  evidence  if  the  letter  were  tampered  with.  Thus 
Chupin  was  punished  for  Florent's  faults,  for  this  seal 
was  the  viscount's'  invariable  precaution  against  his 
servant's  prying  curiosity.  So  our  enterprising  youth 
could  only  read  and  re-read  the  superscription  and  smell 
the  paper,  which  was  strongly  scented  with  verbena. 
He  fancied  that  there  was  some  mysterious  connection 
between  this  letter  intended  for  M.  de  Coralth's  wife 
and  the  missive  sent  to  the  baroness.  And  why  should 
it  not  be  so?  Had  they  not  both  been  written  under 
the  influence  of  anger?  Still  he  failed  to  perceive  any 
possible  connection  between  the  rich  baroness  and  the 
poor  tobacco  dealer,  and  his  cogitations  only  made  him 
more  perplexed  than  ever.  However,  his  efforts  to 
solve  the  mystery  did  not  interfere  with  the  free  use 
of  his  limbs,  and  he  soon  found  himself  on  the  Quai 
de  la  Seine.  "  Here  I  am,"  he  muttered.  "  I've  come 
more  quickly  than  an  omnibus." 

The  Quai  de  la  Seine  is  a  broad  road,  connecting  the 
Rue  de  Flandres  with  the  canal  de  I'Ourcq.  On  the 
left-hand  side  it  is  bordered  with  miserable  shanties 
interspersed  with  some  tiny  shops,  and  several  huge 
coal  depots.  On  the  right-hand  side — that  next  to  the 
canal — there  are  also  a  few  provision  stores.  In  the 
daytime  there  is  no  noisier  nor  livelier  place  than  this 
same  Quai;  but  nothing  could  be  more  gloomy  at 
night-time  when  the  shops  are  closed,  when  the  few 
gas-lamps  only  increase  the  grimness  of  the  shadows, 
and  when  the  only  sound  that  breaks  the  silence  is  the 
rippling  of  the  water  as  its  smooth  surface  is  ruffled 
by  some  boatman  propelling  his  skiff  through  the 
canal. 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE    201 

"  The  viscount  must  certainly  have  made  a  mistake," 
thought  Chupin;  "  there  is  no  such  shop  on  the  Quai." 
He  was  wrong,  however  ;  for  after  passing  the  Rue  de 
Soissons  he  espied  the  red  lantern  of  a  tobacco-shop, 
glimmering  through  the  fog. 


XI. 


Having  almost  reached  the  goal,  Chupin  slackened  his 
pace.  He  approached  the  shop  very  cautiously  and 
peered  inside,  deeming  it  prudent  to  reconnoitre  a  little 
before  he  went  in.  And  certainly  there  was  nothing  to 
prevent  a  prolonged  scrutiny.  The  night  was  very 
dark,  the  quay  deserted.  No  one  was  to  be  seen  ;  not 
a  sound  broke  the  stillness.  The  darkness,  the  sur- 
roundings, and  the  silence  were  sinister  enough  to  make 
even  Chupin  shudder,  though  he  was  usually  as  thor- 
oughly at  home  in  the  loneliest  and  most  dangerous  by- 
ways of  Paris  as  an  honest  man  of  the  middle  classes 
would  be  in  the  different  apartments  of  his  modest 
household.  "  That  scoundrel's  wife  must  have  less 
than  a  hundred  thousand  a  year  if  she  takes  up  her 
abode  here  !  "  thought  Chupin. 

And,  in  fact,  nothing  could  be  more  repulsive  than 
the  tenement  in  which  Aladame  Paul  had  installed  her- 
self. It  was  but  one  story  high,  and  built  of  clay, 
and  it  had  fallen  to  ruin  to  such  an  extent  that  it  had 
been  found  necessary  to  prop  it  up  with  timber,  and 
to  nail  some  old  boards  over  the  yawning  fissures  in 
the  walls.  "  If  I  lived  here,  I  certainly  shouldn't  feel 
quite  at  ease  on  a  windy  day,"  continued  Chupin,  sotto 
voce. 

The  shop  itself  was  of  a  fair  size,  but  most  wretched 


202     BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

in  its  appointments,  and  disgustingly  dirty.  The  floor 
was  covered  with  that  black  and  glutinous  coal-dust 
which  forms  the  soil  of  the  Quai  de  la  Seine.  An 
auctioneer  would  have  sold  the  entire  stock  and  fixtures 
for  a  few  shillings.  Four  stone  jars,  and  a  couple  of 
pairs  of  scales,  a  few  odd  tumblers,  filled  with  pipes 
and  packets  of  cigarettes,  some  wine-glasses,  and  three 
or  four  labelled  bottles,  five  or  six  boxes  of  cigars, 
and  as  many  packages  of  musty  tobacco,  constituted  the 
entire  stock  in  trade. 

As  Chupin  compared  this  vile  den  with  the  viscount's 
luxurious  abode,  his  blood  fairly  boiled  in  his  veins. 
"  He  ought  to  be  shot  for  this,  if  for  nothing  else,"  he 
muttered  through  his  set  teeth.  "  To  let  his  wife  die 
of  starvation  here  !  "  For  it  was  M.  de  Coralth's  wife 
who  kept  this  shop.  Chupin,  who  had  seen  her  years 
before,  recognized  her  now  as  she  sat  behind  her  coun- 
ter, although  she  was  cruelly  changed.  "  That's  her," 
he  murmured.  "  That's  certainly  Mademoiselle  Flavie." 

He  had  used  her  maiden  name  in  speaking  of  her. 
Poor  woman  !  She  was  undoubtedly  still  young — but 
sorrow,  regret,  and  privations,  days  spent  in  hard  work 
to  earn  a  miserable  subsistence,  and  nights  spent  in 
weeping,  had  made  her  old,  haggard,  and  wrinkled 
before  her  time.  Of  her  once  remarkable  beauty 
naught  remained  but  her  hair,  which  was  still  magnifi- 
cent, though  it  was  in  wild  disorder,  and  looked  as  if  it 
had  not  been  touched  by  a  comb  for  weeks  ;  and  her  big 
black  eyes,  which  gleamed  with  the  phosphorescent  and 
destructive  brilliancy  of  fever.  Everything  about  her 
person  bespoke  terrible  reverses,  borne  without  dignity. 
Even  if  she  had  struggled  at  first,  it  was  easy  to  see 
that  she  struggled  no  longer.  Her  attire — her  torn  and 
soiled  silk  dress,  and  her  dirty  cap — revealed  thorough 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE    203 

indolence,  and  that  morbid  indifference  which  at  times 
follows  great  misfortunes  with  weak  natures. 

"  Such  is  life,"  thought  Chupin,  philosophically, 
"Here's  a  girl  who  was  brought  up  like  a  queen  and 
allowed  to  have  her  own  way  in  everything!  If  any 
one  had  predicted  this  in  those  days,  how  she  would 
have  sneered  !  I  can  see  her  now  as  she  looked  that 
day  when  I  met  her  driving  her  gray  ponies.  If  people 
didn't  clear  the  road  it  was  so  much  the  worse  for 
them!  In  those  times  Paris  was  like  some  great  shop 
where  she  could  select  whatever  she  chose.  She  said: 
*  I  want  this,'  and  she  got  it.  She  saw  a  handsome 
young  fellow  and  wanted  him  for  her  husband;  her 
father,  who  could  refuse  her  nothing,  consented,  and 
now  behold  the  result  !  " 

He  had  lingered  longer  at  the  window  than  he  had 
meant  to  do,  perhaps  because  he  could  see  that  the 
young  woman  was  talking  with  some  person  in  a  back 
room,  the  door  of  which  stood  open.  Chupin  tried  to 
find  out  who  this  person  was,  but  he  did  not  succeed; 
and  he  was  about  to  go  in  when  suddenly  he  saw 
Madame  Paul  rise  from  her  seat  and  say  a  few  words 
with  an  air  of  displeasure.  And  this  time  her  eyes, 
instead  of  turning  to  the  open  door,  were  fixed  on  a 
part  of  the  shop  directly  opposite  her.  "  Is  there  some 
one  there  as  well,  then?"  Chupin  wondered. 

He  changed  his  post  of  observation,  and,  by  standing 
on  tiptoe,  he  succeeded  in  distinguishing  a  puny  little 
boy,  some  three  or  four  years  old,  and  clad  in  rags, 
who  was  playing  with  the  remnants  of  a  toy-horse. 
The  sight  of  this  child  increased  Chupin's  indignation. 
"  So  there's  a  child  ?  "  he  growled.  "  The  rascal  not 
only  deserts  his  wife,  but  he  leaves  his  child  to  starve  ! 
We  may  as  well  make  a  note  of  that:  and  when  we 


204     BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

settle  up  our  accounts,  he  shall  pay  dearly  for  his 
villainy."  With  this  threat  he  brusquely  entered  the 
shop. 

"  What  do  you  wish,  sir?  "  asked  the  woman. 

"  Nothing;  I  bring  you  a  letter,  madame." 

"  A  letter  for  me  !    You  must  be  mistaken." 

"  Excuse  me  ;  aren't  you  Madame  Paul  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Then  this  is  for  you."  And  he  handed  her  the 
missive  which  Florent  had  confided  to  his  care. 

Madame  Paul  took  hold  of  it  with  some  hesitation, 
eying  the  messenger  suspiciously  meanwhile;  but,  on 
seeing  the  handwriting,  she  uttered  a  cry  of  surprise. 
And,  turning  toward  the  open  door,  she  called,  "  M. 
Mouchon  !  M.  Mouchon  !  It's  from  him — it's  from 
my  husband  ;  from  Paul.     Come,  come  !  " 

A  bald-headed,  corpulent  man,  who  looked  some  fifty 
years  of  age,  now  timidly  emerged  from  the  room  be- 
hind the  shop  with  a  cap  in  his  hand.  "  Ah,  well  !  my 
dear  child,"  he  said,  in  an  oily  voice,  "  what  was  I  tell- 
ing you  just  now?  Everything  comes  to  those  who 
know  how  to  wait." 

However  she  had  already  broken  the  seal,  and  she 
was  now  reading  the  letter  eagerly,  clapping  her  hands 
with  delight  as  she  finished  its  perusal.  "  He  con- 
sents !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  He's  frightened — he  begs  me 
to  wait  a  little — look — read  !  " 

But  M.  Mouchon  could  not  read  without  his  spec- 
tacles, and  he  lost  at  least  two  minutes  in  searching 
his  pockets  before  he  found  them.  And  when  they 
were  adjusted,  the  light  was  so  dim  that  it  took  him  at 
least  three  minutes  more  to  decipher  the  missive. 
Chupin  had  spent  this  time  in  scrutinizing — in  apprais- 
ing the  man,  as  it  were.    "  What  is  this  venerable  gen- 


BARON   TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE    205 

tieman  doing  here?  "  he  thought.  "  He's  a  middle  class 
man,  that's  evident  from  his  linen.  He's  married — 
there's  a  wedding-ring  on  his  finger  ;  he  has  a  daughter, 
for  the  ends  of  his  necktie  are  embroidered.  He  lives 
in  the  neighborhood,  for,  well  dressed  as  he  is,  he 
wears  a  cap.  But  what  was  he  doing  there  in  that 
back  room  in  the  dark?" 

Aleanwhile  M.  Mouchon  had  finished  reading  the  let- 
ter.   "  What  did  I  tell  you  ?  "  he  said  complacently. 

"  Yes,  you  were  right  !  "  answered  Madame  Paul  as 
she  took  up  the  letter  and  read  it  again  with  her  eyes 
sparkling  with  joy.  "  And  now  what  shall  I  do?  "  she 
asked.     "  Wait,  shall  I  not?  " 

"  No,  no  !  "  exclaimed  the  elderly  gentleman,  in  evi- 
dent dismay.  "  You  must  strike  the  iron  while  it's  hot." 

"  But  he  promises  me " 

"  To  promise  and  to  keep  one's  promises  are  two  dif- 
ferent things." 

"  He  wants  a  reply." 

"  Tell  him "     But  he  stopped  short,  calling  her 

attention  with  a  gesture  to  the  messenger,  whose  eyes 
were  glittering  with  intense  curiosity. 

She  understood.  So  filling  a  glass  with  some  liquor, 
she  placed  it  before  Chupin,  and  offered  him  a  cigar, 
saying  :  "  Take  a  seat — here's  something  to  keep  you 
from  feeling  impatient  while  you  wait  here."  There- 
upon she  followed  the  old  gentleman  into  the  adjoining 
room,  and  closed  the  door. 

Even  if  Chupin  had  not  possessed  the  precocious 
penetration  he  owed  to  his  life  of  adventure,  the  young 
woman  and  the  old  gentleman  had  said  enough  to 
enable  him  to  form  a  correct  estimate  of  the  situation. 
He  was  certain  now  that  he  knew  the  contents  of  the 
letter  as  perfectly  as  if  he  had  read  it.    M.  de  Coralth's 


206    BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

anger,  and  his  order  to  make  haste,  were  both  ex- 
plained. Moreover,  Chupin  distinctly  saw  what  con- 
nection there  was  between  the  letter  to  the  baroness 
and  the  letter  to  Madame  Paul.  He  understood  that 
one  was  the  natural  consequence  of  the  other.  Deserted 
by  her  husband,  Madame  Paul  had  at  last  become  weary 
of  poverty  and  privations.  She  had  instituted  a  search 
for  her  husband,  and,  having  found  him,  she  had  writ- 
ten to  him  in  this  style  :  "  I  consent  to  abstain  from 
interfering  with  you,  but  only  on  conditions  that  you 
provide  means  of  subsistence  for  me,  your  lawfully 
wedded  wife,  and  for  your  child.  If  you  refuse,  I  shall 
urge  my  claims,  and  ruin  you.  The  scandal  won't  be 
of  much  use  to  me,  it's  true,  but  at  least  I  shall  no 
longer  be  obliged  to  endure  the  torture  of  knowing 
that  you  are  surrounded  by  every  luxury  while  I  am 
dying  of  starvation." 

Yes,  she  had  evidently  written  that.  It  might  not  be 
the  precise  text  ;  but  no  doubt  it  was  the  purport  of  her 
letter.  On  receiving  it,  Coralth  had  become  alarmed. 
He  knew  only  too  well  that  if  his  wife  made  herself 
known  and  revealed  his  past,  it  would  be  all  over  with 
him.  But  he  had  no  money.  Charming  young  men 
like  the  Viscount  de  Coralth  never  have  any  money  on 
hand.  So,  in  this  emergency,  the  dashing  young  fellow 
had  written  to  his  wife  imploring  her  to  have  patience, 
and  to  the  baroness,  entreating,  or  rather  commanding 
her  to  advance  him  a  certain  sum  at  once. 

This  was  no  doubt  the  case,  and  yet  there  was  one 
circumstance  which  puzzled  Chupin  exceedingly.  In 
former  years,  he  had  heard  it  asserted  that  Made- 
moiselle Flavie  was  the  very  personification  of  pride, 
and  that  she  adored  her  husband  even  to  madness.  Had 
this  great  love  vanished?     Had  poverty  and  sorrow 


BARON   TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE    207 

broken  her  spirit  to  such  a  degree  that  she  was  wilhng 
to  stoop  to  such  shameful  concessions  !  If  she  were 
acquainted  with  her  husband's  present  Hfe,  how  did  it 
happen  that  she  did  not  prefer  starvation,  or  the  ahns- 
house  and  a  pauper's  grave  to  his  assistance?  Chupin 
could  understand  how,  in  a  moment  of  passion,  she 
might  be  driven  to  denounce  her  husband  in  the  pres- 
ence of  his  fashionable  acquaintances,  how  she  might 
be  impelled  to  ruin  him  so  as  to  avenge  herself  ;  but  he 
could  not  possibly  understand  how  she  could  consent  to 
profit  by  the  ignominy  of  the  man  she  loved.  "  The 
plan  isn't  hers,"  said  Chupin  to  himself,  after  a  mo- 
ment's reflection.  "  It's  probably  the  work  of  that  stout 
old  gentleman." 

There  was  a  means  of  verifying  his  suspicions,  for 
on  returning  into  the  adjoining  room,  Madame  Paul 
had  not  taken  her  son  with  her.  He  was  still  sitting 
on  the  muddy  floor  of  the  shop,  playing  with  his  dilap- 
idated horse.  Chupin  called  him.  "  Come  here,  my 
little  fellow,"  said  he. 

The  child  rose,  and  timidly  approached,  his  eyes  dilat- 
ing with  distrust  and  astonishment.  The  poor  boy's 
repulsive  uncleanliness  was  a  terrible  charge  against 
the  mother.  Did  she  no  longer  love  her  own  oflF- 
spring?  The  untidiness  of  sorrow  and  poverty  has  its 
bounds.  A  long  time  must  have  passed  since  the  child's 
face  and  hands  had  been  washed,  and  his  soiled  clothes 
were  literally  falling  to  rags.  Still,  he  was  a  handsome 
little  fellow,  and  seemed  fairly  intelligent,  in  spite  of 
his  bashfulness.  He  was  very  light-haired,  and  in  feat- 
ures he  was  extremely  like  M.  de  Coralth.  Chupin 
took  him  on  his  knees,  and,  after  looking  to  see  if  the 
door  communicating  with  the  inner  room  were  securely 
closed,  he  asked  :  "  What's  your  name,  little  chap  ?  " 


208    BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

"  Paul." 

"  Do  you  know  your  father  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  Doesn't  your  mother  ever  talk  to  you  about  hhri  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes  !  " 

"  And  what  docs  she  say  ?  " 

"  That  he's  rich — very  rich." 

"And  what  else?" 

The  child  did  not  reply  ;  perhaps  his  mother  had  for- 
bidden him  to  say  anything  on  the  subject — perhaps 
that  instinct  which  precedes  intelligence,  just  as  the 
dawn  precedes  daylight,  warned  him  to  be  prudent  with 
a  stranger.  "  Doesn't  your  papa  ever  come  to  see 
you?"  insisted  Chupin. 

"  Never." 

"Why?" 

"  Mamma  is  very  poor." 

"  And  wouldn't  you  like  to  go  and  see  him?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  But  he'll  come  some  day,  and  take 
us  away  with  him  to  a  large  house.  We  shall  be  all 
right,  then  ;  and  he  will  give  us  a  deal  of  money  and 
pretty  dresses,  and  I  shall  have  plenty  of  toys." 

Satisfied  on  this  point,  Chupin,  pushed  his  investi- 
gations farther.  "  And  do  you  know  this  old  gentle- 
man who  is  with  your  mamma  in  the  other  room  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes  !— that's  Mouchon." 

"  And  who's  Mouchon  ?  " 

"  He's  the  gentleman  who  owns  that  beautiful  gar- 
den at  the  corner  of  the  Rue  Riquet,  where  there  are 
such  splendid  grapes.  I'm  going  with  him  to  get 
some." 

"  Does  he  often  come  to  see  you  ?  " 

"  Every  evening.  He  always  has  goodies  in  his 
pocket  for  mamma  and  me." 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE    209 

"  Why  does  he  sit  in  that  back  room  without  any- 
light?" 

"  Oh,  he  says  that  the  customers  mustn't  see  him." 

It  would  have  been  an  abominable  act  to  continue 
this  examination,  and  make  this  child  the  innocent 
accuser  of  his  own  mother.  Chupin  felt  conscience- 
smitten  even  now.  So  he  kissed  the  cleanest  spot  he 
could  find  on  the  boy's  face,  and  set  him  on  the  floor 
again,  saying,  "  Go  and  play." 

The  child  had  revealed  his  mother's  character  with 
cruel  precision.  What  had  she  told  him  about  his 
father?  That  he  was  rich,  and  that,  in  case  he  re- 
turned, he  would  give  them  plenty  of  money  and  fine 
clothes.  The  woman's  nature  stood  revealed  in  all  its 
deformity.  Chupin  had  good  cause  to  feel  proud  of 
his  discernment — all  his  suppositions  had  been  con- 
firmed. He  had  read  Mouchon's  character  at  a  glance. 
He  had  recognized  him  as  one  of  those  wily  evil- 
minded  men  who  employ  their  leisure  to  the  profit  of 
their  depravity — one  of  those  patient,  cold-blooded 
hypocrites  who  make  poverty  their  purveyor,  and  whose 
passion  is  prodigal  only  in  advice.  "  So  he's  paying 
his  court  to  Madame  Paul,"  thought  Chupin.  "  Isn't 
it  shameful  ?  The  old  villain  !  he  might  at  least  give 
her  enough  to  eat  !  " 

So  far  his  preoccupation  had  made  him  forget  his 
wine  and  his  cigar.  He  emptied  the  glass  at  a  single 
draught,  but  it  proved  far  more  difficult  to  light  the 
cigar.  "  Zounds  !  this  is  a  non-combustible,"  he 
growled.  "  When  I  arrive  at  smoking  ten  sous  cigars, 
I  sha'n't  come  here  to  buy  them." 

However,  with  the  help  of  several  matches  and  a 
great  deal  of  drawing,  he  had  almost  succeeded,  when 
the  door  opened,  and  Madame  Paul  reappeared  with  a 


210    BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

letter  in  her  hand.  She  seemed  greatly  agitated;  her 
anxiety  was  unmistakable.  "  I  can't  decide,"  she  was 
saying  to  Moiichon,  whose  figure  Chupin  could  only 
dimly  distinguish  in  the  darkness.  "  No,  I  can't.  If  I 
send  this  letter,  I  must  forever  renounce  all  hope  of 
my  husband's  return.  Whatever  happens,  he  will  never 
forgive  me." 

"  He  can't  treat  you  worse  than  he  does  now,  at  all 
events,"  replied  the  old  gentleman.  "  Besides,  a  gloved 
cat  has  never  caught  a  mouse  yet." 

"  He'll  hate  me." 

"The  man  who  wants  his  dog  to  love  him,  beats  it; 
and,  besides,  when  the  wine  is  drawn,  one  must  drink 
it." 

This  singular  logic  seemed  to  decide  her.  She 
handed  the  letter  to  Chupin,  and  drawing  a  franc  from 
her  pocket  she  ofïered  it  to  him.  "  This  is  for  your 
trouble,"  she  said. 

He  involuntarily  held  out  his  hand  to  take  the  money, 
but  quickly  withdrew  it,  exclaiming:  "  No,  thank  you; 
keep  it.  I've  been  paid  already."  And,  thereupon,  he 
left  the  shop. 

Chupin's  mother — his  poor  good  mother,  as  he  called 
her — would  certainly  have  felt  proud  and  delighted  at 
her  son's  disinterestedness.  That  very  morning,  he  had 
refused  the  ten  francs  a  day  that  M.  Fortunat  had 
ofïered  him,  and  this  evening  he  declined  the  twenty 
sous  proffered  him  by  Madame  Paul.  This  was  appar- 
ently a  trifle,  and  yet  in  reality  it  was  something  mar- 
vellous, unprecedented,  on  the  part  of  this  poor  lad, 
who,  having  neither  trade  nor  profession,  was  obliged 
to  earn  his  daily  bread  through  the  medium  of  those 
chance  opportunities  which  the  lower  classes  of  Paris 
are  continually  seeking.     As  he  returned  to  the  Rue 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE    211 

de  Flandres,  he  muttered  :  "  Take  twenty  sous  from 
that  poor  creature,  who  hasn't  had  enough  to  satisfy 
her  hunger  for  heaven  knows  how  long  !  That  would 
be  altogether  unworthy  of  a  man." 

It  is  only  just  to  say  that  money  had  never  given 
him  a  feeling  of  satisfaction  at  all  comparable  with  that 
which  he  now  experienced.  He  was  impressed,  too, 
with  a  sense  of  vastly-increased  importance  on  thinking 
that  all  the  faculties,  and  all  the  energy  he  had  once 
employed  in  the  service  of  evil,  were  now  consecrated 
to  the  service  of  good.  By  becoming  the  instrument 
of  Pascal  Ferailleur's  salvation  he  would,  in  some 
measure,  atone  for  the  crime  he  had  committed  years 
before. 

Chupin's  mind  was  so  busily  occupied  with  these 
thoughts  that  he  reached  the  Rue  d'Anjou  and  M.  de 
Coralth's  house  almost  before  he  was  aware  of  it.  To 
his  great  surprise,  the  concierge  and  his  wife  were  not 
alone.  Florent  was  there,  taking  coffee  with  them. 
The  valet  had  divested  himself  of  his  borrowed  finery, 
and  had  donned  his  red  waistcoat  again.  He  seemed  to 
be  in  a  savage  humor;  and  his  anger  was  not  at  all 
strange  under  the  circumstances.  There  was  but  a  step 
from  M.  de  Coralth's  house  to  the  baroness's  residence, 
but  fatalities  may  attend  even  a  step  !  The  baroness, 
on  receiving  the  letter  from  her  maid,  had  sent  a  mes- 
sage to  Florent  requesting  him  to  wait,  as  she  desired 
to  speak  with  him  !  and  she  had  been  so  inconsiderate  as 
to  keep  him  waiting  for  more  than  an  hour,  so  that  he 
had  missed  his  appointment  with  the  charming  ladies 
he  had  spoken  of.  In  his  despair  he  had  returned 
home  to  seek  consolation  in  the  society  of  his  friend 
the  concierge.  "  Have  you  the  answer?"  he  asked. 
"  Yes,  here  it  is,"  replied  Chupin,  and  Florent  had 


212     BARON   TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

just  slipped  the  letter  into  his  pocket,  and  was  engaged 
in  counting  out  the  thirty  sous  which  he  had  promised 
his  messenger,  when  the  familiar  cry,  "  Open,  please," 
was  heard  outside. 

M.  de  Coralth  had  returned.  He  sprang  to  the 
ground  as  soon  as  the  carriage  entered  the  courtyard, 
and  on  perceiving  his  servant,  he  exclaimed  :  "  Have 
you  executed  my  commissions  ?  " 

"  They  have  been  executed,  monsieur." 

"  Did  you  see  the  baroness?  " 

"  She  made  me  wait  two  hours  to  tell  me  that  the 
viscount  need  not  be  worried  in  the  least  ;  that  she 
would  certainly  be  able  to  comply  with  his  request 
to-morrow." 

M.  de  Coralth  seemed  to  breathe  more  freely.  "  And 
the  other  party  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"  Gave  me  this  for  monsieur." 

The  viscount  seized  the  missive,  with  an  eager  hand, 
tore  it  open,  read  it  at  one  glance,  and  flew  into  such  a 
paroxysm  of  passion  that  he  quite  forgot  those  around 
him,  and  began  to  tear  the  letter,  and  utter  a  string 
of  oaths  which  would  have  astonished  a  cab-driver.  But 
suddenly  realizing  his  imprudence,  he  mastered  his  rage, 
and  exclaimed,  with  a  forced  laugh  :  "  Ah  !  these 
women  !  they  are  enough  to  drive  one  mad  !  "  And 
deeming  this  a  sufficient  explanation,  he  added,  address- 
ing Florent.  "  Come  and  undress  me  ;  I  must  be  up 
early  to-morrow  morning." 

This  remark  was  not  lost  upon  Chupin,  and  at  seven 
o'clock  the  next  morning  he  mounted  guard  at  M.  de 
Coralth's  door.  All  through  the  day  he  followed  the 
viscount  about,  first  to  the  Marquis  de  Valorsay's,  then 
to  the  office  of  a  business  agent,  then  to  M.  Wilkie's, 
then,   in  the  afternoon,  to   Baroness   Trigault's,   and 


BARON   TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE    213 

finally,  in  the  evening-,  to  the  house  of  Madame  d'Ar- 
gelès.  Here,  by  making  himself  useful  to  the  servants, 
by  his  zeal  in  opening  and  shutting  the  doors  of  the 
carriages  that  left  the  house,  he  succeeded  in  gathering 
some  information  concerning  the  frightful  scene  which 
had  taken  place  between  the  mother  and  the  son.  He 
perceived  M.  Wilkie  leave  the  house  with  his  clothes 
in  disorder,  and  subsequently  he  saw  the  viscount 
emerge.  He  followed  him,  first  to  the  house  of  the 
Marquis  de  Valorsay,  and  afterward  to  M.  Wilkie's 
rooms,  where  he  remained  till  nearly  daybreak. 

Thus,  when  Chupin  presented  himself  in  M.  For- 
tunat's  office  at  two  o'clock  on  the  Tuesday  afternoon, 
he  felt  that  he  held  every  possible  clue  to  the  shameful 
intrigue  which  would  ruin  the  viscount  as  soon  as  it 
was  made  public. 

M.  Fortunat  knew  that  his  agent  was  shrewd,  but  he 
had  not  done  justice  to  his  abilities  ;  and  it  was,  indeed, 
with  something  very  like  envy  that  he  listened  to 
Chupin's  clear  and  circumstantial  report.  "  I  have  not 
been  as  successful,"  he  remarked,  when  Chupin's  story 
was  ended.  But  he  had  not  time  to  explain  how  or 
why,  for  just  as  he  was  about  to  do  so,  Madame 
Dodelin  appeared,  and  announced  that  the  young  lady 
he  expected  was  there.  "  Let  her  come  in  !  "  exclaimed 
M.  Fortunat,  eagerly — "  let  her  come  in  !  " 

Mademoiselle  Marguerite  had  not  been  compelled  to 
resort  to  any  subterfuge  to  make  her  escape  from 
Madame  de  Fondège's  house.  The  General  had  decamped 
early  in  the  morning  to  try  his  horses  and  his  car- 
riages, announcing,  moreover,  that  he  would  breakfast 
at  the  club.  And  as  soon  as  her  breakfast  was  con- 
cluded, Madame  de  Fondège  had  hurried  off  to  her 
dressmaker's,  warning  the  household  that  she  would 


214     BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

not  return  before  dinner-time.  A  little  while  later, 
Aladanie  Léon  had  suddenly  remembered  that  her  noble 
relative  would  certainly  be  expecting  a  visit  from  her, 
and  so  she  dressed  herself  in  haste,  and  went  off,  first 
to  Dr.  Jodon's  and  thence  to  the  Alarquis  de  Valorsay's. 
Thus,  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  had  been  able  to 
make  her  escape  without  attracting  any  one's  attention, 
and  she  would  be  able  to  remain  away  as  many  hours 
as  she  chose,  since  the  servants  would  not  know  how 
long  she  had  been  absent  even  if  they  saw  her  when 
she  returned.  An  empty  cab  was  passing  as  she  left 
the  house,  so  she  hailed  it  and  got  in.  The  step  she 
was  about  to  take  cost  her  a  terrible  effort.  It  was  a 
difficult  task  for  her,  a  girl  naturally  so  reserved,  to 
confide  in  a  stranger,  and  open  to  him  her  maidenly 
heart,  filled  with  love  for  Pascal  Ferailleur  !  Still,  she 
was  much  calmer  than  she  had  been  on  the  previous 
evening,  when  she  called  on  the  photographer  for  a 
fac-simile  of  M.  de  Valorsay's  letter.  Several  circum- 
stances combined  to  reassure  her.  M.  Fortunat  knew 
her  already,  since  he  was  the  agent  whom  the  Count 
de  Chalusse  had  employed  to  carry  on  the  investiga- 
tions which  had  resulted  in  her  discovery  at  the  found- 
ling asylum.  A  vague  presentiment  told  her  that  this 
man  was  better  acquainted  with  her  past  life  than  she 
was  herself,  and  that  he  could,  if  he  chose,  tell  her  her 
mother's  name — the  name  of  the  woman  whom  the 
count  so  dreaded,  and  who  had  so  pitilessly  deserted 
her.  However,  her  heart  beat  more  quickly,  and  she 
felt  that  she  was  turning  pale  when,  at  Madame  Dode- 
lin's  invitation,  she  at  last  entered  M.  Fortunat's  pri- 
vate office.  She  took  in  the  room  and  its  occupants 
with  a  single  glance.  The  handsome  appointments  of 
the  office  surprised  her,  for  she  had  expected  to  see  a 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE     215 

den.  The  agent's  polite  manner  and  rather  elegant 
appearance  disconcerted  her,  for  she  had  expected  to 
meet  a  coarse  and  illiterate  boor;  and  finally,  Victor 
Chupin,  who  was  standing  twisting  his  cap  near  the 
fireplace,  attired  in  a  blouse  and  a  pair  of  ragged 
trousers,  fairly  alarmed  her.  Still,  no  sign  of  her  agi- 
tation was  perceptible  on  her  countenance.  Not  a 
muscle  of  her  beautiful,  proud  face  moved — her  glance 
remained  clear  and  haughty,  and  she  exclaimed  in  a 
ringing  voice  :  "  I  am  the  late  Count  de  Chalusse's 
ward.  Mademoiselle  Marguerite.  You  have  received 
my  letter,  I  suppose?" 

M.  Fortunat  bowed  with  all  the  grace  of  manner  he 
was  wont  to  display  in  the  circles  where  he  went  wife- 
hunting,  and  with  a  somewhat  pretentious  gesture  he 
advanced  an  arm-chair,  and  asked  his  visitor  to  sit 
down.  "  Your  letter  reached  me,  mademoiselle,"  he 
replied,  "  and  I  was  expecting  you — flattered  and  hon- 
ored beyond  expression  by  your  confidence.  My  door, 
indeed,  was  closed  to  any  one  but  you." 

Marguerite  took  the  proffered  seat,  and  there  was  a 
moment's  silence.  M.  Fortunat  found  it  difiicult  to 
believe  that  this  beautiful,  imposing  young  girl  could 
be  the  poor  little  apprentice  whom  he  had  seen  in  the 
book-bindery,  years  before,  clad  in  a  coarse  serge  frock, 
with  dishevelled  hair  covered  with  scraps  of  paper.  In 
the  meantime,  Marguerite  was  regretting  the  necessity 
of  confiding  in  this  man,  for  the  more  she  looked  at 
him,  the  more  she  was  convinced  that  he  was  not  an 
honest,  straightforward  person  ;  and  she  would  in-, 
finitely  have  preferred  a  cynical  scoundrel  to  this 
plausible  and  polite  gentleman,  whom  she  strongly  sus- 
pected of  being  a  hypocrite.  She  remained  silent,  wait- 
ing for  M.  Fortunat  to  dismiss  the  young  man  in  the 


216    BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

blouse,  whose  presence  she  could  not  explain,  and  who 
stood  in  a  sort  of  mute  ecstasy,  staring  at  her  with  eyes 
expressive  of  the  most  intense  surprise  and  the  liveliest 
admiration.  But  weary  at  last  of  this  fruitless  delay, 
she  exclaimed:  "  I  have  come,  monsieur,  to  confer  with 
you  respecting  certain  matters  which  require  the  most 
profound  secrecy." 

Chupin  understood  her,  for  he  blushed  to  the  tips 
of  his  ears,  and  started  as  if  to  leave  the  room.  But 
his  employer  detained  him  with  a  gesture. 

"  Remain,  Victor,"  he  said  kindly,  and,  turning  to 
Mademoiselle  Marguerite,  he  added  :  "  You  have  no 
indiscretion  to  fear  from  this  worthy  fellow,  made- 
moiselle. He  knows  everything,  and  he  has  already 
been  actively  at  work — and  with  the  best  result — on 
your  behalf." 

"  I  don't  understand  you,  sir,"  replied  the  girl. 

M.  Fortunat  smiled  sweetly.  "  I  have  already  taken 
your  business  in  hand,  mademoiselle,"  said  he.  "  An 
hour  after  the  receipt  of  your  letter  I  began  the 
campaign." 

"  But  I  had  not  told  you " 

"  What  you  wished  of  me — that's  true.  But  I  al- 
lowed myself  to  suspect " 

"Ah!" 

"  I  fancied  I  might  conclude  that  you  wished  the  help 
of  my  experience  and  poor  ability  in  clearing  an  inno- 
cent man  who  has  been  vilely  slandered,  M.  Pascal 
Ferailleur." 

Marguerite  sprang  to  her  feet,  at  once  agitated  and 
alarmed.    "  How  did  you  know  this?  "  she  exclaimed. 

M.  Fortunat  had  left  his  arm-chair,  and  was  now 
leaning  against  the  mantel-shelf,  in  what  he  consid- 
ered a  most  becoming  and  awe-inspiring  attitude,  with 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE    217, 

his  thumb  in  the  armhole  of  his  waistcoat.  "  Ah  ! 
nothing  could  be  more  simple,"  he  answered,  in  much 
the  same  tone  as  a  conqueror  might  assume  to  explain 
his  feat.  "  It  is  part  of  my  profession  to  penetrate 
the  intentions  of  persons  who  deign  to  honor  me  with 
their  confidence.  So  my  surmises  are  correct;  at  least 
you  have  not  said  the  contrary?  " 

She  had  said  nothing.  When  her  first  surprise  was 
over,  she  vainly  endeavored  to  find  a  plausible  explana- 
tion of  M.  Fortunat's  acquaintance  with  her  afifairs, 
for  she  was  not  at  all  deceived  by  his  pretended  per- 
spicacity. Meanwhile,  delighted  by  the  supposed  efifect 
he  had  produced,  he  recklessly  continued  :  "  Reserve 
your  amazement  for  what  I  am  about  to  disclose,  for 
I  have  made  several  important  discoveries.  It  must 
have  been  your  good  angel  who  inspired  you  with  the 
idea  of  coming  to  me.  You  would  have  shuddered  if 
you  had  realized  the  dangers  that  threatened  you.  But 
now  you  have  nothing  to  fear  ;  I  am  watching.  I  am 
here,  and  I  hold  in  my  hand  all  the  threads  of  the 
abominable  intrigue  for  ruining  you.  For  it  is  you, 
your  person,  and  your  fortune  that  are  imperilled.  It 
was  solely  on  your  account  that  M.  Ferailleur  was  at- 
tacked. And  I  can  tell  you  the  names  of  the  scoundrels 
who  ruined  him.  The  crime  originated  with  the  person 
who  had  the  most  powerful  interest  in  the  matter — the 
Marquis  de  Valorsay.  His  agent  was  a  scoundrel  who 
is  generally  known  as  the  Viscount  de  Coralth;  but 
Chupin  here  can  tell  you  his  real  name  and  his  shame- 
ful past.  You  preferred  M.  Ferailleur,  hence  it  was 
necessary  to  put  him  out  of  the  way.  M.  de  Chalusse 
had  promised  your  hand  to  the  Marquis  de  Valorsay. 
This  marriage  was  Valorsay's  only  resource — the  plank 
that  might  save  the  drowning  man.     People  fancy  he 


218    BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

is  rich  ;  but  he  is  ruined.  Yes,  ruined  completely,  irre- 
trievably. He  was  in  such  desperate  straits  that  he 
had  almost  determined  to  blow  his  brains  out  before 
the  hope  of  marrying  you  entered  his  mind." 

"  Ah  !  "  thought  Chupin,  "  my  employer  is  well  un- 
der way." 

This  was  indeed  the  case.  The  name  of  Valorsay 
.was  quite  sufficient  to  set  all  M.  Fortunat's  bile  in 
.motion.  All  thought  of  his  ex-client  irritated  him  be- 
yond endurance.  Unfortunately  for  him,  however,  his 
anger  in  the  present  instance  had  ruined  his  plans.  He 
had  intended  to  take  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  by  sur- 
prise, to  work  upon  her  imagination,  to  make  her  talk 
without  saying  anything  himself,  and  to  remain  master 
of  the  situation.  But  on  the  contrary  he  had  revealed 
everything;  and  he  did  not  discover  this  until  it  was 
too  late  to  retrieve  his  blunder.  "  How  the  Marquis 
de  Valorsay  has  kept  his  head  above  water  is  a  wonder 
to  me,"  he  continued.  "  His  creditors  have  been  threat- 
ening to  sue  him  for  more  than  six  months.  How  he 
has  been  able  to  keep  them  quiet  since  M.  de  Chalusse's 
death,  I  cannot  understand.  However,  this  much  is 
certain,  mademoiselle:  the  marquis  has  not  renounced 
his  intention  of  becoming  your  husband  ;  and  to  attain 
that  object  he  won't  hesitate  to  employ  any  means  that 
may  promise  to  prove  effectual." 

Completely  mistress  of  herself.  Mademoiselle  Mar- 
guerite listened  with  an  impassive  face.  "  I  know  all 
this,"  she  replied,  in  a  frigid  tone. 

"What!  you  know " 

"  Yes  ;  but  there  is  one  thing  that  bafïïes  my  powers 
of  comprehension.  My  dowry  was  the  only  temptation 
to  M.  de  Valorsay,  was  it  not?  Why  does  he  still  wish 
to  marry  me,  now  that  I  have  no  fortune  ?  " 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE    219 

M.  Fortunat  had  gradually  lost  all  his  advantage. 
"  I  have  asked  myself  the  same  question,"  he  replied, 
"  and  I  think  I  have  found  an  answer.  I  believe  that 
the  marquis  has  in  his  possession  a  letter,  or  a  will,  or 
a  document  of  some  sort,  written  by  M.  de  Chalusse — 
in  fact  an  instrument  in  which  the  count  acknowledges 
you  as  his  daughter,  and  which  consequently  establishes 
your  right  to  his  property." 

"  And  the  marquis  could  urge  this  claim  if  he  be- 
came my  husband?" 

"  Certainly  he  could," 

M.  Fortunat  explained  M.  de  Valorsay's  conduct  ex- 
actly as  the  old  magistrate  had  done.  However,  Made- 
moiselle Marguerite  discreetly  refrained  from  commit- 
ting herself.  The  great  interest  that  M.  Fortunat 
seemed  to  take  in  her  affairs  aroused  her  distrust  ;  and 
she  decided  to  do  what  he  had  attempted  in  vain — that 
is,  allow  him  to  do  all  the  talking,  and  to  conceal  all 
that  she  knew  herself.  "  Perhaps  you  are  right,"  she 
remarked,  "  but  it  is  necessary  to  prove  the  truth  of 
your  assertion." 

"  I  can  prove  that  Valorsay  hasn't  a  shilling,  and  that 
he  has  lived  for  a  year  by  expedients  which  render  him 
liable  to  arrest  and  prosecution  at  any  time.  I  can 
prove  that  he  deceived  M.  de  Chalusse  as  to  his  finan- 
cial position.  I  can  prove  that  he  conspired  with  M. 
de  Coralth  to  ruin  your  lover.  Wouldn't  this  be 
something?  " 

She  smiled  in  a  way  that  was  exceedingly  irritating 
to  his  vanity,  and  in  a  tone  of  good-natured  incredulity, 
she  remarked  :  "  It  is  easy  to  say  these  things." 

"  And  to  do  them,"  rejoined  M.  Fortunat,  quickly. 
"  I  never  promise  what  I  cannot  perform.  A  man 
should  never  touch  a  pen  when  he  is  meditating  any 


220    BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

evil  act.  Of  course,  no  one  is  fool  enough  to  write 
down  his  infamy  in  detail.  But  a  man  cannot  always 
be  on  the  qui  vive.  There  will  be  a  word  in  one  letter, 
a  sentence  in  another,  an  allusion  in  a  third.  And  by 
combining  these  words,  phrases,  and  allusions,  one  may 
finally  discover  the  truth." 

He  suddenly  checked  himself,  warned  of  his  fresh 
imprudence  by  the  expression  on  Mademoiselle  Mar- 
guerite's face.  She  drew  back,  and  looking  him  full  in 
the  eyes,  she  exclaimed  :  "  Then  you  have  been  in  M. 
de  Valorsay's  confidence,  sir?  Would  you  be  willing 
to  swear  that  you  never  helped  him  in  his  designs  ?  " 

A  silent  and  ignored  witness  of  this  scene,  "V^ictor 
Chupin  was  secretly  delighted.  "  Hit  !  "  he  thought — 
"  hit  just  in  the  bull's-eye.  Zounds  !  there's  a  woman 
for  you  !     She  has  beaten  the  guv'nor  on  every  point." 

AI.  Fortunat  was  so  taken  by  surprise  that  he  made 
no  attempt  to  deny  his  guilt.  "  I  confess  that  I  acted 
as  M.  de  Valorsay's  adviser  for  some  time,"  he  replied, 
*'  and  he  frequently  spoke  to  me  of  his  intention  of 
marrying  a  rich  wife  in  order  to  retrieve  his  shattered 
fortunes.  Upon  my  word,  I  see  nothing  so  very  bad 
about  that  !  It  is  not  a  strictly  honest  proceeding,  per- 
haps, but  it  is  done  every  day.  What  is  marriage  in 
this  age?  Merely  a  business  transaction,  is  it  not? 
Perhaps  it  would  be  more  correct  to  say  that  it  is  a 
transaction  in  which  one  person  tries  to  cheat  the  other. 
The  fathers-in-law  are  deceived,  or  the  husband,  or  the 
wife,  and  sometimes  all  of  them  together.  But  when  I 
discovered  this  scheme  for  ruining  AI.  Ferailleur,  I 
cried  '  halt  !  '  My  conscience  revolted  at  that.  Dis- 
honor an  innocent  man  !  It  was  base,  cowardly,  out- 
rageous !  And  not  being  able  to  prevent  this  infamous 
act,  I  swore  that  I  would  avenge  it." 


BARON   TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE    221 

Would  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  accept  this  expla- 
nation? Chupin  feared  so,  and  accordingly  turning 
quickly  to  his  employer,  he  remarked  :  "  To  say  nothing 
of  the  fact  that  this  fine  gentleman  has  swindled  you 
outrageously,  shrewd  as  you  are — cheating  you  out  of 
the  forty  thousand  francs  you  lent  him,  and  which  he 
was  to  pay  you  eighty  thousand  for." 

M,  Fortunat  cast  a  withering  look  at  his  clerk,  but 
the  mischief  was  done  :  denial  was  useless.  He  seemed 
fated  to  blunder  in  this  afïair.  "  Well,  yes,"  he  de- 
clared, "  it's  true.  Valorsay  has  defrauded  me,  and  I 
have  sworn  to  have  my  revenge.  I  won't  rest  until  I 
see  him  ruined." 

Mademoiselle  Marguerite  was  partially  reassured, 
for  she  understood  his  zeal  now.  Her  scorn  for  the 
man  was  only  increased;  but  she  was  convinced  that 
he  would  serve  her  faithfully.  "  I  like  this  much  bet- 
ter," said  she.  "  It  is  better  to  have  no  concealment. 
You  desire  M.  de  Valorsay's  ruin.  I  desire  the  re- 
habilitation of  M.  Ferailleur.  So  our  interests  are  in 
common.  But  before  acting  in  this  matter,  we  must 
know  M.  Ferailleur's  wishes." 

"  They  cannot  be  considered." 

"And  why?" 

"  Because  no  one  knows  what  has  become  of  him. 
When  the  desire  for  revenge  first  took  possession  of 
me,  I  at  once  thought  of  him.  I  procured  his  address, 
and  went  to  the  Rue  d'Ulm.  But  he  had  gone  away. 
The  very  day  after  his  misfortune,  M.  Ferailleur  sold 
his  furniture  and  went  away  with  his  mother." 

"  I  am  aware  of  that,  and  I  have  come  to  ask  you 
to  search  for  him.  To  discover  his  hiding-place  will  be 
only  child's  play  to  you." 

"Do  you  suppose  I  haven't  thought  of  this?"  re- 


222    BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

plied  AI.  Fortuiiat.  "  Why,  I  spent  all  clay  yesterday 
searching  for  him.  By  questioning  the  people  in  the 
neighborhood  I  finally  succeeded  in  ascertaining  that 
Madame  Ferailleur  left  her  home  in  a  cab  several  hours 
after  her  son,  and  took  a  very  large  quantity  of  bag- 
gage with  her.  Well,  do  you  know  where  she  drove? 
To  the  Western  railway  station.  I  am  sure  of  this, 
and  I  know  she  told  a  porter  there  that  her  destination 
was  London.  M.  Ferailleur  is  now  en  route  for  Amer- 
ica, and  we  shall  never  hear  of  him  again  !  " 

Mademoiselle  Alarguerite  shook  her  head.  "  You 
are  mistaken,  sir,"  said  she. 

"  There  can  be  no  mistake  about  what  I  have  just 
told  you." 

"  I  don't  question  the  result  of  your  investigations, 
but  appearances  are  deceitful.  I  thoroughly  understand 
M.  Ferailleur 's  character,  and  he  is  not  the  man  to  be 
crushed  by  an  infamous  calumny.  He  may  seem  to  fly, 
he  may  disappear,  he  may  conceal  himself  for  a  time, 
but  it  is  only  to  make  his  vengeance  more  certain. 
What  !  Pascal,  who  is  energy  itself,  who  possesses  an 
iron  will,  and  invincible  determination,  would  he  re- 
nounce his  honor,  his  future,  and  the  woman  he  loves 
without  a  struggle?  If  he  had  felt  that  his  case  was 
hopeless,  he  would  have  destroyed  himself,  and  as  he 
has  not  done  so,  he  is  not  without  hope.  He  has  not 
left  Paris;  I  am  sure  of  it." 

M.  Fortunat  was  not  convinced.  In  his  opinion  this 
was  only  sentiment  and  rubbish.  Still  there  was  one 
person  present  who  was  deeply  impressed  by  the  confi- 
dence of  this  young  girl,  who  was  the  most  beautiful 
creature  he  had  ever  seen,  and  whose  devotion  and 
energy  filled  his  heart  with  admiration,  and  this  person 
was  Chupin.    He  stepped  forward  with  his  eyes  spark- 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE     223 

ling  with  enthusiasm,  and  in  a  feeling  voice  he  ex- 
claimed: "  I  understand  your  idea  !  Yes,  M.  Ferailleur 
is  in  Paris.  And  I  shall  be  unworthy  of  the  name  of 
Chupin,  if  I  don't  find  him  for  you  in  less  than  a 
fortnight  !  " 


XII. 


Mademoiselle  Marguerite  knew  Pascal  Ferailleur. 
Suddenly  struck  down  in  the  full  sunlight  of  happi- 
ness by  a  terrible  misfortune,  he,  of  course,  experi- 
enced moments  of  frenzy  and  terrible  depression;  but 
he  was  incapable  of  the  cowardice  which  M.  Fortunat 
had  accused  him  of. 

Mademoiselle  Marguerite  only  did  him  justice  when 
she  said  that  the  sole  condition  on  which  he  could  con- 
sent to  live  was  that  of  consecrating  his  life,  and  all 
his  strength,  intelligence  and  will  to  confounding  this 
infamous  calumny.  And  still  she  did  not  know  the 
extent  of  Pascal's  misfortune.  How  could  she  suppose 
that  he  believed  himself  deserted  by  her?  How  could 
she  know  the  doubts  and  fears  and  the  anguish  that  had 
been  roused  in  his  heart  by  the  note  which  Madame 
Léon  had  given  him  at  the  garden  gate?  What  did 
she  know  of  the  poignant  suspicions  that  had  rent  his 
mind,  after  listening  to  Madame  Vantrasson's  dispar- 
aging insinuations? 

It  must  be  admitted  that  he  was  indebted  to  his 
mother  alone  for  his  escape  from  suicide — that  grim 
madness  that  seizes  hold  of  so  many  desperate,  despair- 
ing men.  And  it  was  still  to  his  mother — ^the  incom- 
parable guardian  of  his  honor — that  he  owed  his  resa- 


224     BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

lution  on  the  morning  he  applied  to  Baron  Trigault. 
And  his  courage  met  vvitii  its  first  reward. 

He  was  no  longer  the  same  man  when  he  left  the 
princely  mansion  which  he  had  entered  with  his  heart 
so  full  of  anguish.  He  was  still  somewhat  bewildered 
with  the  strange  scenes  which  he  had  involuntarily  wit- 
nessed, the  secrets  he  had  overheard,  and  the  revelations 
which  had  been  made  to  him  ;  but  a  light  gleamed  on 
the  horizon — a  fitful  and  uncertain  light,  it  is  true, 
but  nevertheless  a  hopeful  gleam.  At  least,  he  would 
no  longer  have  to  struggle  alone.  An  honest  and  ex- 
perienced man,  powerful  by  reason  of  his  reputation, 
his  connections  and  his  fortune,  had  promised  him  his 
help.  Thanks  to  this  man  whom  misfortune  had  made 
a  truer  friend  than  years  could  have  done,  he  would 
have  access  to  the  wretch  who  had  deprived  him  both 
of  his  honor  and  of  the  woman  he  loved.  He  knew  the 
weak  spot  in  the  marquis's  armor  now  ;  he  knew  where 
and  how  to  strike,  and  he  felt  sure  that  he  should  suc- 
ceed in  winning  Valorsay's  confidence,  and  in  obtaining 
irrefutable  proofs  of  his  villainy. 

Pascal  was  eager  to  inform  his  mother  of  the  for- 
tunate result  of  his  visit,  but  certain  arrangements 
which  were  needful  for  the  success  of  his  plans  required 
his  attention,  and  it  was  nearly  five  o'clock  when  he 
reached  the  Route  de  la  Révolte.  Madame  Ferailleur 
was  just  returning  home  when  he  arrived,  which  sur- 
prised him  considerably,  for  he  had  not  known  that  she 
had  intended  going  out.  The  cab  she  had  used  was 
still  standing  before  the  door,  and  she  had  not  had  time 
to  take  ofif  her  shawl  and  bonnet  when  he  entered  the 
house.  She  uttered  a  joyful  cry  on  perceiving  her  son. 
She  was  so  accustomed  to  read  his  secret  thoughts  on 
his  face,  that  it  was  unnecessary   for  him  to  say  a 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE     225 

word;  before  he  had  even  opened  his  hps,  she  cried: 
"  So  you  have  succeeded  ?  " 

"  Yes,  mother,  beyond  my  hopes." 

"  I  was  not  deceived,  then,  in  the  worthy  man  who 
came  to  offer  us  his  assistance?" 

"  No,  certainly  not.  Do  what  I  may,  I  can  never 
repay  him  for  his  generosity  and  self-denial.  If  you 
knew,  my  dear  mother,  if  you  only  knew " 

"What?" 

He  kissed  her  as  if  he  wished  to  apologize  for  what 
he  was  about  to  say,  and  then  he  quickly  replied: 
"  Marguerite  is  the  daughter  of  Baroness  Trigault." 

Madame  Ferailleur  started  back,  as  if  she  had  seen 
a  reptile  spring  up  in  her  pathway.  "  The  daughter  of 
the  baroness  !  "  she  faltered.     "  Great  Heavens  !  " 

"It  is  the  truth,  mother;  listen  to  me."  And  in  a 
voice  that  trembled  with  emotion,  he  rapidly  related  all 
he  had  learned  by  his  visit  to  the  baron,  softening  the 
truth  as  much  as  he  could  without  concealing  it.  But 
prevarication  was  useless.  Madame  Ferailleur's  indig- 
nation and  disgust  were  none  the  less  evident.  "  That 
woman  is  a  shameless  creature,"  she  said,  coldly,  when 
her  son's  narrative  was  concluded. 

Pascal  made  no  reply.  He  knew  only  too  well  that 
his  mother  was  right,  and  yet  it  wounded  him  cruelly 
to  hear  her  speak  in  this  style.  For  the  baroness  was 
Marguerite's  mother  after  all. 

"  So,"  continued  Madame  Ferailleur,  with  increasing 
indignation,  "  creatures  do  exist  who  are  destitute  even 
of  the  maternal  instincts  of  animals.  I  am  an  honest 
woman  myself;  I  don't  say  it  in  self-glorification,  it's 
no  credit  to  me;  my  mother  was  a  saint,  and  I  loved 
my  husband;  what  some  people  call  duty  was  my 
happiness,  so  I  may  be  allowed  to  speak  on  this  subject. 


226    BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

I  don't  excuse  infidelity,  but  I  can  understand  how 
such  a  thing  is  possible.  Yes,  I  can  understand  how 
a  beautiful  young  woman,  who  is  left  alone  in  a  city 
like  Paris,  may  lose  her  senses,  and  forget  the  worthy 
man  who  has  exiled  himself  for  her  sake,  and  who  is 
braving  a  thousand  dangers  to  win  a  fortune  for  her. 
The  husband  who  exposes  his  honor  and  happiness  to 
such  terrible  risk,  is  an  imprudent  man.  But  when 
this  woman  has  erred,  when  she  has  given  birth  to  a 
child,  how  she  can  abandon  it,  how  she  can  cast  it  ofï 
as  if  it  were  a  dog,  I  cannot  comprehend.  I  could 
imagine  infanticide  more  easily.  No,  such  a  woman 
has  no  heart,  no  bowels  of  compassion.  There  is 
nothing  human  in  her  !  For  how  could  she  live,  how 
could  she  sleep  with  the  thought  that  somewhere  in 
the  world  her  own  child,  the  flesh  of  her  flesh,  was  ex- 
posed to  all  the  temptations  of  poverty,  and  the  horrors 
of  shame  and  vice?  And  she,  the  possessor  of  millions, 
she,  the  inmate  of  a  palace,  thinking  only  of  dress  and 
pleasure  !  How  was  it  that  she  didn't  ask  herself 
every  minute,  '  Where  is  my  daughter  now,  and  what 
is  she  doing?  What  is  she  living  on?  Has  she  shelter, 
clothes  and  food?  To  what  depths  of  degradation  she 
may  have  sunk?  Perhaps  she  has  so  far  lived  by 
honest  toil,  and  perhaps  at  this  very  moment  this  sup- 
port fails  her,  and  she  is  abandoning  herself  to  a  life 
of  infamy.'  Great  God  !  how  does  this  woman  dare  to 
step  out  of  doors?  On  seeing  the  poor  wretches  who 
have  been  driven  to  vice  by  want,  how  can  she  fail  to 
say  to  herself:  '  That,  perhaps,  is  my  daughter!  '  " 

Pascal  turned  pale,  moved  to  the  depths  of  his  soul 
by  his  mother's  extraordinary  vehemence.  He  trem- 
bled lest  she  should  say  :  "  And  you,  my  son,  would 
you  marry  the  child  of  such  a  mother?  "    For  he  knew 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE     227 

his  mother's  prejudices,  and  the  great  importance  she 
attached  to  a  spotless  reputation  transmitted  from 
parent  to  child,  from  generation  to  generation.  "  The 
baroness  knew  that  her  husband  adored  her,  and  hear- 
ing of  his  return  she  became  terrified;  she  lost  her 
senses,"  he  ventured  to  say  in  extenuation. 

"  Would  you  try  to  defend  her?  "  exclaimed  Madame 
Ferailleur.  "  Do  you  really  think  one  can  atone  for  a 
fault  by  a  crime  ?  " 

"  No,  certainly  not,  but " 

"  Perhaps  you  would  censure  the  baroness  more 
severely  if  you  knew  what  her  daughter  has  suffered — 
if  you  knew  the  perils  and  miseries  she  has  been  ex- 
posed to  from  the  moment  her  mother  left  her  on  a 
door-step,  near  the  central  markets,  till  the  day  when 
her  father  found  her.  It  is  a  miracle  that  she  did  not 
perish." 

Where  had  Madame  Ferailleur  learned  these  particu- 
lars? Pascal  asked  himself  this  question  without  being 
able  to  answer  it.  "  I  don't  understand  you,  mother," 
he  faltered. 

"  Then  you  know  nothing  of  Mademoiselle  Mar- 
guerite's past  life.  Is  it  possible  she  never  told  you 
anything  about  it?" 

"  I  only  know  that  she  has  been  very  unhappy." 

"  Has  she  never  alluded  to  the  time  when  she  was 
an  apprentice  ?  " 

"  She  has  only  told  me  that  she  earned  her  living 
with  her  own  hands  at  one  time  of  her  life." 
'  Well,  I  am  better  informed  on  the  subject." 

Pascal's  amazement  was  changed  to  terror.  "  You, 
mother,  you  !  " 

"  Yes  ;  I — I  have  been  to  the  asylum  where  she  was 
received  and  educated.    I  have  had  a  conversation  with 


228     BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

two  Sisters  of  Charity  who  remember  her,  and  it  is 
scarcely  an  hour  since  I  left  the  people  to  whom  she 
was  formerly  bound  as  an  apprentice." 

Standing  o])posite  his  mother  with  one  hand  con- 
vulsively clutching  the  back  of  the  chair  he  was  leaning 
on,  Pascal  tried  to  nerve  himself  for  some  terrible  blow. 
For  was  not  his  life  at  stake?  Did  not  his  whole 
future  depend  upon  the  revelations  Madame  Ferailleur 
was  about  to  make?  "So  this  was  your  object  in 
going  out,  mother?"  he  faltered. 

"  Yes." 

"  And  you  went  without  warning  me  ?  " 

"  Was  it  necessary  ?  What  !  you  love  a  young  girl, 
you  swear  in  my  presence  that  she  shall  be  your  wife, 
and  you  think  it  strange  that  I  should  try  to  ascertain 
whether  she  is  worthy  of  you  or  not  ?  It  would  be  very 
strange  if  I  did  not  do  so." 

"  This  idea  occurred  to  you  so  suddenly  !  " 

Madame  Ferailleur  gave  an  almost  imperceptible 
shrug  of  the  shoulders,  as  if  she  were  astonished  to 
have  to  answer  such  puerile  objections.  "  Have  you 
already  forgotten  the  disparaging  remarks  made  by  our 
new  servant,  Madame  Vantrasson  ?  " 

"  Good  Heavens  !  " 

"  I  understood  her  base  insinuations  as  well  as  you 
did,  and  after  your  departure  I  questioned  her,  or 
rather  I  allowed  her  to  tell  her  story,  and  I  ascer- 
tained that  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  had  once  been 
an  apprentice  of  Vantrasson's  brother-in-law,  a  man 
named  Greloux,  who  was  formerly  a  bookbinder  in  the 
Rue  Saint-Denis,  but  who  has  now  retired  from  busi- 
ness. It  was  there  that  Vantrasson  met  Mademoiselle 
Marguerite,  and  this  is  why  he  was  so  greatly  surprised 
to  see  her  doing  the  mistress  at  the  Hôtel  de  Chalusse." 


BARON   TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE    229 

It  seemed  to  Pascal  that  the  throbbing  of  his  heart 
stopped  his  breath, 

"  By  a  little  tact  I  obtained  the  Greloux's  address 
from  Madame  Vantrasson,"  resumed  his  mother. 
"  Then  I  sent  for  a  cab  and  drove  there  at  once." 

"And  you  saw  them?" 

"  Yes  ;  thanks  to  a  falsehood  which  doesn't  trouble 
my  conscience  much,  I  succeeded  in  effecting  an  en- 
trance, and  had  an  hour's  conversation  with  them." 
His  mother's  icy  tones  frightened  Pascal.  Her  slow- 
ness tortured  him,  and  still  he  dared  not  press  her. 
"  The  Greloux  family,"  she  continued,  "  seem  to  be 
what  are  called  worthy  people,  that  is,  incapable  of 
committing  any  crime  that  is  punishable  by  the  code, 
and  very  proud  of  their  income  of  seven  thousand 
francs  a  year.  They  must  have  been  very  much  at- 
tached to  Mademoiselle  Marguerite,  for  they  were 
lavish  in  their  protestations  of  affection  when  I  men- 
tioned her  name.  The  husband  in  particular  seemed 
to  regard  her  with  a  feeling  of  something  like 
gratitude." 

"  Ah  !  you  see,  mother,  you  see  !  " 

"  As  for  the  wife,  it  was  easy  to  see  that  she  had 
sincerely  regretted  the  loss  of  the  best  apprentice,  the 
most  honest  servant,  and  the  best  worker  she  had  ever 
seen  in  her  life.  And  yet,  from  her  own  story,  I  should 
be  willing  to  swear  that  she  had  abused  the  poor  child, 
and  had  made  a  slave  of  her."  Tears  glittered  in  Pas- 
cal's eyes,  but  he  breathed  freely  once  more.  "  As  for 
Vantrasson,"  resumed  Madame  Ferailleur,  "  it  is  cer- 
tain that  he  took  a  violent  fancy  to  his  sister's  appren- 
tice. This  man,  who  has  since  become  an  infamous 
scoundrel,  was  then  only  a  rake,  an  unprincipled  drunk- 
ard and  libertine.    He  fancied  the  poor  little  apprentice 


230    BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

— she  was  then  but  thirteen  years  old — would  be  only 
too  glad  to  become  the  mistress  of  her  employer's 
brother;  but  she  scornfully  repulsed  him,  and  his 
vanity  was  so  deeply  wounded  that  he  persecuted  the 
poor  girl  to  such  an  extent  that  she  was  obliged  to 
complain,  first  to  Madame  Greloux,  who — to  her 
shame  be  it  said — treated  these  insults  as  mere  non- 
sense; and  afterward  to  Greloux  himself,  who  was 
probably  delighted  to  have  an  opportunity  of  ridding 
himself  of  his  indolent  brother-in-law,  for  he  turned 
him  out  of  the  house." 

The  thought  that  so  vile  a  rascal  as  this  man  Van- 
trasson  should  have  dared  to  insult  Marguerite  made 
Pascal  frantic  with  indignation.  "  The  wretch  !  "  he 
exclaimed  ;  "  the  wretch  !  "  But  without  seeming  to 
notice  her  son's  anger,  Madame  Ferailleur  continued: 
"  They  pretended  they  had  not  seen  their  former  ap- 
prentice since  she  had  been  living  in  grandeur,  as  they 
expressed  it.  But  in  this  they  lied  to  me.  For  they 
saw  her  at  least  once,  and  that  was  on  the  day  she 
brought  them  twenty  thousand  francs,  which  proved 
the  nucleus  of  their  fortune.  They  did  not  mention 
this  fact,  however." 

"  Dear  Marguerite  !  "  murmured  Pascal,  "  dear 
Marguerite  !  "  And  then  aloud  :  "  But  where  did  you 
learn  these  last  details,  mother  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"  At  the  asylum  where  Mademoiselle  Marguerite 
was  brought  up,  and  there,  too,  I  only  heard  words  of 
praise.  '  Never,'  said  the  superior,  '  have  I  had  a  more 
gifted,  sweeter-tempered  or  more  attractive  charge.' 
They  had  reproached  her  sometimes  for  being  too  re- 
served, and  her  self-respect  had  often  been  mistaken 
for  inordinate  pride  ;  but  she  had  not  forgotten  the 
asylum  any  more  than  she  had  forgotten  her  former 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE     231 

patrons.  On  one  occasion  the  superior  received  from 
her  the  sum  of  twenty-five  thousand  francs,  and  a 
year  ago  she  presented  the  institution  with  one  hun- 
dred thousand  francs,  the  yearly  income  of  which  is  to 
constitute  the  marriage  dowry  of  some  deserving 
orphan." 

Pascal  was  greatly  elated.  "  Well,  mother  !  "  he  ex- 
claimed, "  well,  is  it  strange  that  I  love  her?  "  Madame 
Ferailleur  made  no  reply,  and  a  sorrowful  apprehension 
seized  hold  of  him.  "  You  are  silent,"  said  he,  "  and 
why?  When  the  blessed  day  that  will  allow  me  to 
wed  Marguerite  arrives,  you  surely  won't  oppose  our 
marriage?  " 

"  No,  my  son,  nothing  that  I  have  learned  gives  me 
the  right  to  do  so." 

"  The  right  !    Ah,  you  are  unjust,  mother." 

"  Unjust  !  Haven't  I  faithfully  reported  all  that  was 
told  me,  although  I  knew  it  would  only  increase  your 
passion?  " 

"  That's  true,  but " 

Madame  Ferailleur  sadly  shook  her  head.  "  Do  you 
think,"  she  interrupted,  "  that  I  can,  without  sorrow, 
see  you  choose  a  girl  of  no  family,  a  girl  who  is  out- 
side the  pale  of  social  recognition?  Don't  you  under- 
stand my  disquietude  when  I  think  that  the  girl  that 
you  will  marry  is  the  daughter  of  such  a  woman  as 
Baroness  Trigault,  an  unfortunate  girl  whom  her 
mother  cannot  even  recognize,  since  her  mother  is  a 
married  woman " 

"Ah!  mother,  is  that  Marguerite's   fault?" 

"  Did  I  say  it  was  her  fault  ?  No — I  only  pray  God 
that  you  may  never  have  to  repent  of  choosing  a  wife 
whose  past  life  must  ever  remain  an  impenetrable 
mystery  !  " 


232    BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

Pascal  had  become  very  pale.  "  Mother  !  "  he  said 
in  a  quivering  voice,  "  mother  !  " 

"  I  mean  that  you  will  only  know  so  much  of  Made- 
moiselle Marguerite's  past  life  as  she  may  choose  to 
tell  you,"  continued  the  obdurate  old  lady.  "  You 
heard  Madame  Vantrasson's  ignoble  allegations.  It 
has  been  said  that  she  was  the  mistress,  not  the  daugh- 
ter, of  the  Count  de  Chalusse.  Who  knows  what  vile 
accusations  you  may  be  forced  to  meet?  And  what  is 
your  refuge,  if  doubts  should  ever  assail  you?  Made- 
moiselle Marguerite's  word!  Will  this  be  sufiEicient? 
It  is  now,  perhaps  ;  but  will  it  suffice  in  years  to  come  ? 
I  would  have  my  son's  wife  above  suspicion;  and  she 
— why,  there  is  not  a  single  episode  in  her  life 
that  does  not  expose  her  to  the  most  atrocious 
calumny." 

"  What  does  calumny  matter  ?  it  will  never  shake  my 
faith  in  her.  The  misfortunes  which  you  reproach 
Marguerite  for  sanctify  her  in  my  eyes." 

"  Pascal  !  " 

"  What  !  Am  I  to  scorn  her  because  she  has  been 
unfortunate?  Am  I  to  regard  her  birth  as  a  crime? 
Am  I  to  despise  her  because  her  mother  is  a  despicable 
woman?  No — God  be  praised!  the  day  when  illegiti- 
mate children,  the  innocent  victims  of  their  mother's 
faults,  were  branded  as  outcasts,  is  past." 

But  Madame  Ferailleur's  prejudices  were  too  deeply 
rooted  to  be  shaken  by  these  arguments.  "  I  won't 
discuss  this  question,  my  son,"  she  interrupted,  "  but 
take  care.  By  declaring  children  irresponsible  for 
their  mother's  faults,  you  will  break  the  strongest  tie 
that  binds  a  woman  to  duty.  If  the  son  of  a  pure  and 
virtuous  wife,  and  the  son  of  an  adulterous  woman 
meet  upon  equal  ground,  those  who  are  held  in  check 


BARON   TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE     233 

only  by  the  thought  of  their  children  will  finally  say  to 
themselves,  what  does  it  matter?" 

It  was  the  first  time  that  a  cloud  had  ever  arisen 
between  mother  and  son.  On  hearing  his  dearest  hopes 
thus  attacked,  Pascal  was  tempted  to  rebel,  and  a  flood 
of  bitter  words  rose  to  his  lips.  However  he  had 
strength  enough  to  control  himself.  "  Marguerite  alone 
can  triumph  over  these  implacable  prejudices,"  he 
thought  ;  "  when  my  mother  knows  her,  she  will  feel 
how  unjust  they  are  !  " 

And  as  he  found  it  difficult  to  remain  master  of  him- 
self, he  stammered  some  excuse,  and  abruptly  retired 
to  his  own  room,  where  he  threw  himself  on  his  bed. 
He  felt  that  it  was  not  his  place  to  reproach  his  mother 
or  censure  her  for  her  opinions.  What  mother  had 
ever  been  so  devoted  as  she  had  been?  And  who 
knows? — it  was,  perhaps,  from  these  same  rigid  preju- 
dices that  this  simple-minded  and  heroic  woman  had 
derived  her  energy,  her  enthusiastic  love  of  God,  her 
hatred  of  evil,  and  that  virility  of  spirit  which  mis- 
fortune had  been  powerless  to  daunt.  Besides,  had  she 
not  promised  to  offer  no  opposition  to  his  marriage  ! 
And  was  not  this  a  great  concession,  a  sacrifice  which 
must  have  cost  her  a  severe  struggle?  And  where 
can  one  find  the  mother  who  does  not  count  as  one  of 
the  sublime  joys  of  maternity  the  task  of  seeking  a 
wife  for  her  son,  of  choosing  from  among  all  others 
the  young  girl  who  will  be  the  companion  of  his  life, 
the  angel  of  his  dark  and  of  his  prosperous  days?  His 
mind  was  occupied  with  these  thoughts  when  his  door 
suddenly  opened,  and  he  sprang  up,  exclaiming  :  "  Who 
is  it?" 

It  was  Madame  Vantrasson,  who  came  to  announce 
that  dinner  was  ready — a  dinner  which  she  had  herself 


234    BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

prepared,  for  on  going"  out  Madame  Ferailleur  had  left 
her  in  charge  of  the  household.  On  seeing  this  woman, 
Pascal  was  overcome  with  rage  and  indignation,  and 
felt  a  wild  desire  to  annihilate  her.  He  knew  that  she 
was  only  a  vile  slanderer,  but  she  might  meet  other 
beings  as  vile  as  herself  who  would  be  only  too  glad 
to  believe  her  falsehoods.  And  to  think  that  he  was 
powerless  to  punish  her  !  He  now  realized  the  suffer- 
ing his  mother  had  spoken  of — the  most  atrocious  suf- 
fering which  the  lover  can  endure — powerlessness  to 
protect  the  object  of  his  affections,  when  she  is  assailed. 
Engrossed  in  these  gloomy  thoughts,  Pascal  preserved 
a  sullen  silence  during  the  repast.  He  ate  because  his 
mother  filled  his  plate  ;  but  if  he  had  been  questioned, 
he  could  scarcely  have  told  what  he  was  eating.  And 
yet,  the  modest  dinner  was  excellent.  Madame  Van- 
trasson  was  really  a  good  cook,  and  in  this  first  effort 
in  her  new  situation  she  had  surpassed  herself.  Her 
vanity  as  a  cordon-bleu  was  piqued  because  she  did  not 
receive  the  compliments  she  expected,  and  which  she 
felt  she  deserved.  Four  or  five  times  she  asked  im- 
patiently, "  Isn't  that  good  ?  "  and  as  the  only  reply 
was  a  scarcely  enthusiastic  "  Very  good,"  she  vowed 
she  would  never  again  waste  so  much  care  and  talent 
upon  such  unappreciative  people. 

Madame  Ferailleur  was  as  silent  as  her  son,  and 
seemed  equally  anxious  to  finish  with  the  repast.  She 
evidently  wanted  to  get  rid  of  Madame  Vantrasson, 
and  in  fact  as  soon  as  the  simple  dessert  had  been 
placed  on  the  table,  she  turned  to  her,  and  said  :  "  You 
may  go  home  now.    I  will  attend  to  the  rest." 

Irritated  by  the  taciturnity  of  these  strange  folks,  the 
landlady  of  the  Model  Lodging  House  withdrew,  and 
they  soon  heard  the  street  door  close  behind  her  with 


BARON   TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE    235 

a  loud  bang  as  she  left  the  house.  Pascal  drew  a  long 
breath  as  if  relieved  of  a  heavy  weight.  While  Madame 
Vantrasson  had  been  in  the  room  he  had  scarcely  dared 
to  raise  his  eyes,  so  great  was  his  dread  of  encounter- 
ing the  gaze  of  this  woman,  whose  malignity  was  but 
poorly  veiled  by  her  smooth-tongued  hypocrisy.  He 
really  feared  he  should  not  be  able  to  resist  his  desire 
to  strangle  her.  However,  Madame  Ferailleur  must 
have  understood  her  son's  agitation,  for  as  soon  as  they 
were  alone,  she  said  :  "  So  you  have  not  forgiven  me 
for  my  plain  speaking?" 

"  How  can  I  be  angry  with  you,  mother,  when  I 
know  that  you  are  thinking  only  of  my  happiness  ?  But 
how  sorry  I  shall  be  if  your  prejudices " 

Madame  Ferailleur  checked  him  with  a  gesture. 
"  Let  us  say  no  more  on  the  subject,"  she  remarked. 
"  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  will  be  the  innocent  cause 
of  one  of  the  greatest  disappointments  of  my  life;  but 
I  have  no  reason  to  hate  her — and  I  have  always  been 
able  to  show  justice  even  to  the  persons  I  loved 
the  least.  I  have  done  so  in  this  instance,  and  I 
am  going  perhaps  to  give  you  a  convincing  proof  of 
it." 

"A  proof?" 

"  Yes." 

She  reflected  for  a  moment  and  then  she  asked: 
"  Did  you  not  tell  me,  my  son,  that  Mademoiselle  Mar- 
guerite's education  has  not  suffered  on  account  of  her 
neglected  childhood  ?  " 

"  And  it's  quite  true,  mother." 

"  She  worked  diligently,  you  said,  so  as  to  improve 
herself?" 

"  Marguerite  knows  all  that  an  unusually  talented 
girl  can  learn  in  four  years,  when  she  finds  herself  very 


236     BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

unhappy,  and  study  proves  her  only  refuge  and  con- 
solation." 

"If  she  wrote  you  a  note  would  it  be  written  gram- 
matically, and  be  free  from  any  mistakes  in  spell- 
ing?" 

"  Oh,  certainly  !  "  exclaimed  Pascal,  and  a  sudden 
inspiration  made  him  pause  abruptly.  He  darted  to 
his  own  room,  and  a  minute  later  he  returned  with  a 
package  of  letters,  which  he  laid  on  the  table,  saying: 
"  Here,  mother,  read  and  see  for  yourself." 

Madame  Ferailleur  drew  her  spectacles  from  their 
case,  and,  after  adjusting  them,  she  began  to  read. 

With  his  elbows  on  the  table,  and  his  head  resting 
upon  his  hands,  Pascal  eagerly  watched  his  mother, 
anxious  to  read  her  impressions  on  her  face.  She 
was  evidently  astonished.  She  had  not  expected  these 
letters  would  express  such  nobility  of  sentiment,  an 
energy  no  whit  inferior  to  her  own,  and  even  an  echo 
of  her  own  prejudices.  For  this  strange  young  girl 
shared  Madame  Ferailleur's  rather  bigoted  opinions. 
Again  and  again  she  asked  herself  if  her  birth  and  past 
had  not  created  an  impassable  abyss  between  Pascal  and 
herself.  And  she  had  not  felt  satisfied  on  this  point 
until  the  day  when  the  gray-haired  magistrate,  after 
hearing  her  story,  said  :  "  If  I  had  a  son,  I  should  be 
proud  to  have  him  beloved  by  you  !  " 

It  soon  became  apparent  that  Madame  Ferailleur  was 
deeply  moved,  and  once  she  even  raised  her  glasses  to 
wipe  away  a  furtive  tear  which  made  Pascal's  heart 
leap  with  very  joy.  "  These  letters  are  admirable,"  she 
■said  at  last  ;  "  and  no  young  girl,  reared  by  a  virtuous 
mother,  could  have  given  better  expression  to  nobler 

sentiments;   but "       She   paused,   not   wishing   to 

wound  her  son's  feelings,  and  as  he  insisted,  she  added  : 


BARON   TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE    237 

"  But,  these  letters  have  the  irreparable  fault  of  being 
addressed  to  you,  Pascal  !  " 

This,  however,  was  the  expiring  cry  of  her  intract- 
able obstinacy.  "  Now,"  she  resumed,  "  wait  before 
you  censure  your  mother."  So  saying,  she  rose,  opened 
a  drawer,  and  taking  from  it  a  torn  and  crumpled  scrap 
of  paper,  she  handed  it  to  her  son,  exclaiming  :  "  Read 
this  attentively." 

This  proved  to  be  the  note  in  pencil  which  Madame 
Léon  had  given  to  Pascal,  and  which  he  had  divined 
rather  than  read  by  the  light  of  the  street-lamp  ;  he  had 
handed  it  to  his  mother  on  his  return,  and  she  had  kept 
it.  He  had  scarcely  been  in  his  right  mind  the  evening 
he  received  it,  but  now  he  was  enjoying  the  free  exer- 
cise of  all  his  faculties.  He  no  sooner  glanced  at  the 
note  than  he  sprang  up,  and  in  an  excited  voice,  ex- 
claimed, "  Marguerite  never  wrote  this  !  " 

The  strange  discovery  seemed  to  stupefy  him.  "  I 
was  mad,  raving  mad  !  "  he  muttered.  "  The  fraud  is 
palpable,  unmistakable.  How  could  I  have  failed  to 
discover  it  ?  "  And  as  if  he  felt  the  need  of  convincing 
himself  that  he  was  not  deceived,  he  continued,  speak- 
ing to  himself  rather  than  to  his  mother  :  "  The  hand- 
writing is  not  unlike  Marguerite's,  it's  true;  but  it's 
only  a  clever  counterfeit.  And  who  doesn't  know  that 
all  writings  in  pencil  resemble  each  other  more  or  less  ? 
Besides,  it's  certain  that  Marguerite,  who  is  simplicity 
itself,  would  not  have  made  use  of  such  pretentious 
melodramatic  phrases.  How  could  I  have  been  so 
stupid  as  to  believe  that  she  ever  thought  or  wrote  this  : 
'One  cannot  break  a  promise  made  to  the  dying;  I 
shall  keep  mine  even  though  my  heart  break.'  And 
again  :  '  Forget,  therefore,  the  girl  who  has  loved  you 
so  much;  she  is  now  the  betrothed  of  another,  and 


238    BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

honor  requires  she  should  forget  even  your  name  !  '  " 
He  read  these  passages  with  an  extravagant  emphasis, 
which  heightened  their  absurdity.  "  And  what  shall 
I  say  of  these  mistakes  in  spelling?  "  he  resumed.  "  You 
noticed  them,  of  course,  mother? — command  is  written 
with  a  single  *  m,'  and  supplicate  with  one  *  p.'  These 
are  certainly  not  mistakes  that  we  can  attribute  to 
haste  !  Ignorance  is  proved  since  the  blunder  is  always 
the  same.  The  forger  is  evidently  in  the  habit  of  omit- 
ting one  of  the  double  letters." 

Madame  Ferailleur  listened  with  an  impassive  face. 
"  And  these  mistakes  are  all  the  more  inexcusable  since 
this  letter  is  only  a  copy,"  she  observed,  quietly. 

"What?" 

''  Yes  ;  a  verbatim  copy.  Yesterday  evening,  while  I 
was  examining  it  for  the  twentieth  time,  it  occurred  to 
me  that  I  had  read  some  portions  of  it  before.  Where, 
and  under  what  circumstances  ?  It  was  a  puzzle  which 
kept  me  awake  most  of  the  night.  But  this  morning 
I  suddenly  remembered  a  book  which  I  had  seen  in  the 
hands  of  the  workmen  at  the  factory,  and  which  I  had 
often  laughed  over.  So,  while  I  was  out  this  morn- 
ing I  entered  a  book-shop,  and  purchased  the  volume. 
That's  it,  there  on  the  corner  of  the  mantel-shelf.  Take 
it  and  see." 

Pascal  obeyed,  and  noticed  with  surprise  that  the 
work  was  entitled,  "  The  Indispensable  and  Complete 
Letter-writer,  for  Both  Sexes,  in  Every  Condition  of 
Life." 

"  Now  turn  to  the  page  I  have  marked,"  said 
Madame  Ferailleur. 

He  did  so,  and  read:  "  {Model  198).  Letter  from 
a  young  lady  who  has  promised  her  dying  father  to 
renounce  the  man  she  loves,  and  to  bestow  her  hand 


I 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE     239 

upon  another."  Doubt  was  no  longer  possible.  Line 
for  line  and  word  for  word,  the  mistakes  in  spelling 
excepted,  the  note  was  an  exact  copy  of  the  stilted 
prose  of  the  "  Indispensable  Letter-writer." 

It  seemed  to  Pascal  as  if  the  scales  had  suddenly- 
fallen  from  his  eyes,  and  that  he  could  now  understand 
the  whole  intrigue  which  had  been  planned  to  separate 
him  from  Marguerite.  His  enemies  had  dishonored 
him  in  the  hope  that  she  would  reject  and  scorn  him, 
and,  disappointed  in  their  expectations,  they  had 
planned  this  pretended  rupture  of  the  engagement  to 
prevent  him  from  making  any  attempt  at  self-justifica- 
tion. So,  in  spite  of  some  short-lived  doubts,  his  love 
had  been  more  clear-sighted  than  reason,  and  stronger 
than  appearances.  He  had  been  quite  right,  then,  in 
saying  to  his  mother  :  "  I  can  never  believe  that  Mar- 
guerite deserts  me  at  a  moment  when  I  am  so  wretched 
— that  she  condemns  me  unheard,  and  has  no  greater 
confidence  in  me  than  in  my  accusers.  Appearances 
may  indicate  the  contrary,  but  I  am  right."  Certain 
circumstances,  which  had  previously  seemed  contradic- 
tory, now  strengthened  this  belief.  "  How  is  it,"  he 
said  to  himself,  "  that  Marguerite  writes  to  me  that 
her  father,  on  his  death-bed,  made  her  promise  to  re- 
nounce me,  while  Valorsay  declares  the  Count  de  Cha- 
lusse  died  so  suddenly,  that  he  had  not  even  time  to 
acknowledge  his  daughter  or  to  bequeath  her  his  im- 
mense fortune?  One  of  these  stories  must  be  false; 
and  which  of  them?  The  one  in  this  note  most  prob- 
ably. As  for  the  letter  itself,  it  must  have  been  the 
work  of  Madame  Léon." 

If  he  had  not  already  possessed  irrefutable  proofs 
of  this,  the  "  Indispensable  Letter-writer  "  would  have 
shown  it.     The  housekeeper's  perturbation  when  she 


240    BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

met  him  at  the  garden  gate  was  now  explained.  She 
was  shuddering  at  the  thought  that  she  might  be  fol- 
lowed and  watched,  and  that  Marguerite  might  appear 
at  any  moment,  and  discover  everything. 

"  I  think  it  would  be  a  good  plan  to  let  this  poor 
young  girl  know  that  her  companion  is  Valorsay's  spy," 
remarked  Madame  Ferailleur. 

Pascal  was  about  to  approve  this  suggestion,  when  a 
sudden  thought  deterred  him.  "  They  must  be  watch- 
ing Marguerite  very  closely,"  he  replied,  "  and  if  I 
attempt  to  see  her,  if  I  even  venture  to  write  to  her, 
our  enemies  would  undoubtedly  discover  it.  And  then, 
farewell  to  the  success  of  my  plans." 

"  Then  you  prefer  to  leave  her  exposed  to  these 
dangers  ?  " 

"  Yes,  even  admitting  there  is  danger,  which  is  by 
no  means  certain.  Owing  to  her  past  life,  Marguerite's 
experience  is  far  in  advance  of  her  years,  and  if  some 
one  told  me  that  she  had  fathomed  Madame  Leon's 
character,  I  should  not  be  at  all  surprised." 

It  was  necessary  to  ascertain  what  had  become  of 
Marguerite;  and  Pascal  was  puzzling  his  brain  to  dis- 
cover how  this  might  be  done,  when  suddenly  he  ex- 
claimed :  "  Madame  Vantrasson  !  We  have  her  ;  let 
us  make  use  of  her.  It  will  be  easy  to  find  some  excuse 
for  sending  her  to  the  Hôtel  de  Chalusse:  she  will 
gossip  with  the  servants  there,  and  in  that  way  we  can 
discover  the  changes  that  have  taken  place." 

This  was  a  heroic  resolution  on  Pascal's  part,  and 
one  which  he  would  have  recoiled  from  the  evening  be- 
fore. But  it  is  easy  to  be  brave  when  one  is  hopeful; 
and  he  saw  his  chances  of  success  increase  so  rapidly 
that  he  no  longer  feared  the  obstacles  that  had  once 
seemed  almost  insurmountable.    Even  his  mother's  op- 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE    241 

position  had  ceased  to  alarm  him.  For  why  should  he 
fear  after  the  surprising  proof  she  had  given  him  of 
her  love  of  justice,  proving  that  the  pretended  letter 
from  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  was  really  a  forgery? 

He  slept  but  little  that  night  and  did  not  stir  from 
the  house  on  the  following  day.  He  was  busily  en- 
gaged in  perfecting  his  plan  of  attack  against  the  mar- 
quis. His  advantages  were  considerable,  thanks  to 
Baron  Trigault,  who  had  placed  a  hundred  thousand 
francs  at  his  disposal  ;  but  the  essential  point  was  to 
use  this  amount  in  such  a  way  as  to  win  Valorsay's 
confidence,  and  induce  him  to  betray  himself.  Pascal's 
hours  of  meditation  were  not  spent  in  vain,  and  when 
it  became  time  for  him  to  repair  to  his  enemy's  house, 
he  said  to  his  mother  :  "  I've  found  a  plan  ;  and  if  the 
baron  will  let  me  follow  it  out,  Valorsay  is  mine  !  " 


XIII. 

It  was  pure  childishness  on  Pascal's  part  to  doubt 
Baron  Trigault's  willingness  to  agree  even  with  closed 
eyes  to  any  measures  he  might  propose.  He  ought  to 
have  recollected  that  their  interests  were  identical,  that 
they  hated  the  same  men  with  equal  hatred,  and  that 
they  were  equally  resolved  upon  vengeance.  And  cer- 
tainly the  events  which  had  occurred  since  their  last 
interview  had  not  been  of  a  nature  to  modify  the 
baron's  intentions.  However,  misfortune  had  rendered 
Pascal  timid  and  suspicious,  and  it  was  not  until  he 
reached  the  baron's  house  that  his  fears  vanished.  The 
manner  in  which  the  servants  received  him  proved  that 
the  baron  greatly  esteemed  him:  for  the  man  must  be 
stupid  indeed  who  does  not  know  that  the  greeting  of 


242    BARON   TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

the  servants  is  ever  in  harmony  with  the  feelings  of  the 
master  of  the  house.  "  Will  you  be  kind  enough  to 
follow  me  ?  "  said  the  servant  to  whom  he  handed  his 
card.  "  The  baron  is  very  busy,  but  that  doesn't  mat- 
ter. He  gave  orders  that  monsieur  should  be  shown 
up  as  soon  as  he  arrived." 

Pascal  followed  without  a  word.  The  elegance  of  this 
princely  abode  never  varied.  The  same  careless,  prodi- 
gal, regal  luxury  was  apparent  everywhere.  The  ser- 
vants— whose  name  was  legion — were  always  passing 
noiselessly  to  and  fro.  A  pair  of  horses,  worth  at  least 
a  thousand  louis,  and  harnessed  to  the  baroness's 
brougham,  were  stamping  and  neighing  in  the  court- 
yard; and  the  hall  was,  as  usual,  fragrant  with  the 
perfume  of  rare  flowers,  renewed  every  morning. 

On  his  first  visit  Pascal  had  only  seen  the  apart- 
ments on  the  ground  floor.  This  time  his  guide  re- 
marked that  he  would  take  him  upstairs  to  the  baron's 
private  room.  He  was  slowly  ascending  the  broad 
marble  staircase  and  admiring  the  bronze  balustrade, 
the  rich  carpet,  the  magnificent  frescoes,  and  the  costly 
statuary,  when  a  rustle  of  silk  resounded  near  him.  He 
had  only  time  to  step  aside,  and  a  lady  passed  him 
rapidly,  without  turning  her  head,  or  even  deigning  to 
look  at  him.  She  did  not  appear  more  than  forty,  and 
she  was  still  very  beautiful,  with  her  golden  hair 
dressed  high  on  the  back  of  her  head.  Her  costume, 
brilliant  enough  in  hue  to  frighten  a  cab  horse,  was 
extremely  eccentric  in  cut;  but  it  certainly  set  ofif  her 
peculiar  style  of  beauty  to  admirable  advantage. 

"  That's  the  baroness,"  whispered  the  servant,  after 
she  had  passed. 

Pascal  did  not  need  to  be  told  this.  He  had  seen  her 
but  once,  and  then  only  for  a  second;  but  it  had  been 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE    243 

under  such  circumstances  that  he  should  never  forget 
her  so  long  as  he  lived.  And  now  he  understood  the 
strange  and  terrible  impression  which  had  been  pro- 
duced upon  him  when  he  saw  her  first.  Mademoiselle 
Marguerite  was  the  living  prototype  of  this  lady,  save 
as  regards  the  color  of  her  hair.  And  there  would 
have  been  no  difference  in  this  respect  had  the  baroness 
allowed  her  locks  to  retain  their  natural  tint.  Her  hair 
had  been  black,  like  Marguerite's,  and  black  it  had 
remained  until  she  was  thirty-five,  when  she  bleached 
it  to  the  fashionable  color  of  the  time.  And  every 
fourth  day  even  now  her  hairdresser  came  to  apply  a 
certain  compound  to  her  head,  after  which  she  remained 
in  the  bright  sunlight  for  several  hours,  so  as  to 
impart  a  livelier  shade  of  gold  to  her  dyed  locks. 

Pascal  had  scarcely  regained  his  composure,  when 
the  servant  opened  the  door  of  an  immense  apartment 
as  large  as  a  handsome  suite  of  rooms,  and  magnifi- 
cently furnished.  Here  sat  the  baron,  surrounded  by 
several  clerks,  who  were  busily  engaged  in  putting  a 
pile  of  papers  and  documents  in  order. 

But  as  soon  as  Pascal  entered,  the  baron  rose,  and 
cordially  holding  out  his  hand,  exclaimed,  "  Ah  !  here 
you  are  at  last.  Monsieur  Mauméjan  !  " 

So  he  had  not  forgotten  the  name  which  Pascal  had 
assumed.  This  was  a  favorable  omen.  "  I  called, 
monsieur "  began  the  young  man. 

"  Yes — I  know — I  know  !  "  interrupted  the  baron. 
"  Come,  we  must  have  a  talk." 

And,  taking  Pascal's  arm,  he  led  him  into  his  private 
sanctum,  separated  from  the  large  apartment  by  fold- 
ing-doors, which  had  been  removed,  and  replaced  by 
hangings.  Once  there  he  indicated  by  a  gesture  that  they 
could  be  heard  in  the  adjoining  room,  and  that  it  was 


244    BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

necessary  to  speak  in  a  low  tone.  "  You  have  no  doubt 
come,"  said  he,  "  for  the  money  I  promised  that  dear 
Marquis  de  Valorsay — I  have  it  all  ready  for  you; 
here  it  is."  So  saying,  he  opened  an  escritoire,  and 
took  out  a  large  roll  of  bank-notes,  which  he  handed  to 
Pascal.  "  Here,  count  it,"  he  added,  "  and  see  if  the 
amount  is  correct." 

But  Pascal,  whose  face  had  suddenly  become  as  red 
as  fire,  did  not  utter  a  word  in  reply.  On  receiving 
this  money  a  new  but  quite  natural  thought  had  en- 
tered his  mind  for  the  first  time.  "  What  is  the  mat- 
ter?" inquired  the  baron,  surprised  by  this  sudden 
embarrassment.     "  What  has  happened  to  you  ?  " 

"  Nothing,  monsieur,  nothing  !  Only  I  was  asking 
myself — if  I  ought — if  I  can  accept  this  money." 

"Bah!  and  why  not?" 

"  Because  if  you  lend  it  to  M.  de  Valorsay,  it  is  per- 
haps lost." 

"Perhaps!     You  are  polite " 

"  Yes,  monsieur,  you  are  right.  I  ought  to  have  said 
that  it  is  sure  to  be  lost  ;  and  hence  my  embarrassment. 
Is  it  not  solely  on  my  account  that  you  sacrifice  a  sum 
which  would  be  a  fortune  to  many  men?  Yes.  Very 
well,  then.  I  am  asking  myself  if  it  is  right  for  me  to 
accept  such  a  sacrifice,  when  it  is  by  no  means  certain 
that  I  shall  ever  be  able  to  requite  it.  Shall  I  ever 
have  a  hundred  thousand  francs  to  repay  you?  " 

"  But  isn't  this  money  absolutely  necessary  to  enable 
you  to  win  Valorsay 's  confidence  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  if  it  belonged  to  me  I  should  not  hesitate." 

Though  the  baron  had  formed  a  high  estimate  of 
Pascal's  character,  he  was  astonished  and  deeply 
touched  by  these  scruples,  and  this  excessive  delicacy 
of  feeling.    Like  most  opulent  men,  he  knew  few  poor 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE     245 

people  who  wore  their  poverty  with  grace  and  dignity, 
and  who  did  not  snatch  at  a  twenty-franc  piece 
wherever  they  chanced  to  find  it.  "  Ah,  well,  my  dear 
Ferailleur,"  he  said,  kindly,  "  don't  trouble  yourself 
on  this  score.  It's  not  at  your  request  nor  solely  on 
your  account  that  I  make  this  sacrifice." 

"  Oh  !  " 

"  No  ;  I  give  you  my  word  of  honor  it  isn't.  Leav- 
ing you  quite  out  of  the  question,  I  should  still  have 
lent  Valorsay  this  money;  and  if  you  do  not  wish  to 
take  it  to  him,  I  shall  send  it  by  some  one  else." 

After  that,  Pascal  could  not  demur  any  further.  He 
took  the  baron's  prolïered  hand  and  pressed  it  warmly, 
uttering  only  this  one  word,  made  more  eloquent  than 
any  protestations  by  the  fervor  with  which  it  was 
spoken  :  " Thanks  ! " 

The  baron  shrugged  his  shoulders  good-naturedly, 
like  a  man  who  fails  to  see  that  he  has  done  anything 
at  all  meritorious,  or  even  worthy  of  the  slightest 
acknowledgment.  "  And  you  must  understand,  my 
dear  sir,"  he  resumed,  "  that  you  can  employ  this  sum 
as  you  choose,  in  advancing  your  interests,  which  are 
identical  with  mine.  You  can  give  the  money  to  Val- 
orsay at  such  a  time  and  under  such  conditions  as  will 
best  serve  your  plans.  Give  it  to  him  in  an  hour  or  in 
a  month,  all  at  once  or  in  fifty  different  instalments, 
as  you  please.  Only  use  it  like  the  rope  one  ties  round 
a  dog's  neck  before  drowning  him." 

The  keenest  penetration  was  concealed  beneath  the 
baron's  careless  good-nature.  Pascal  knew  this,  and 
feeling  that  his  protector  understood  him,  he  said: 
"  You  overpower  me  with  kindness." 

"  Nonsense  !  " 

"  You  offer  me  just  what  I  came  to  ask  for." 


246    BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

"  So  much  the  better." 

"  But  you  will  allow  me  to  explain  my  intentions?" 
"  It  is  quite  unnecessary,  my  dear  sir." 
"  Excuse  me  ;  if  I  follow  my  present  plan,  I  shall  be 
obliged  to  ascribe  certain  sentiments,  words,  and  even 
acts,  to  you,  which  you  might  perhaps  disavow,  and — " 
With  a  careless  toss  of  the  head,  accompanied  by  a 
disdainful  snap  of  the  fingers,  the  baron  interrupted 
him.  "  Set  to  work,  and  don't  give  yourself  the  slight- 
est uneasiness  about  that.  You  may  do  whatever  you 
like,  if  you  only  succeed  in  unmasking  this  dear  mar- 
quis, and  Coralth,  his  worthy  acolyte.  Show  me  up  in 
whatever  light  you  choose.  Who  will  you  be  in  Val- 
orsay's  eyes?  Why,  Maumejan,  one  of  my  business 
agents,  and  I  can  always  throw  the  blame  on  you." 
And  as  if  to  prove  that  he  had  divined  even  the  details 
of  the  scheme  devised  by  his  young  friend,  he  added: 
"  Besides,  every  one  knows  that  a  millionaire's  busi- 
ness agent  is  anything  but  a  pleasant  person  to  deal 
with.  A  millionaire,  who  is  not  a  fool,  must  always 
smile,  and  no  matter  how  absurd  the  demands  upon 
him  may  be,  he  must  always  answer  :  '  Yes,  certainly, 
certainly — I  should  be  only  too  happy  !  '  But  then  he 
adds  :  '  You  must  arrange  the  matter  with  my  agent. 
Confer  with  him.'  And  it  is  the  unlucky  agent  who 
must  object,  declare  that  his  employer  has  no  money 
at  his  disposal  just  now,  and  finally  say,  '  No.'  " 

Pascal  was  still  disposed  to  insist,  but  the  baron  was 
obdurate.  "  Oh  !  enough,  enough  !  "  he  exclaimed. 
"  Don't  waste  precious  time  in  idle  discussion.  The 
days  are  only  twenty- four  hours  long:  and  as  you  see, 
I'm  very  busy,  so  busy  that  I've  not  touched  a  card 
since  the  day  before  yesterday.  I  am  preparing  a  delight- 
ful surprise  for  Madame  Trigault,  my  daughter,  and  my 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE     247 

son-in-law.  It  has  been  rather  a  delicate  operation, 
but  I  flatter  myself  that  I  have  succeeded  finely."  And 
he  laughed  a  laugh  that  was  not  pleasant  to  hear. 
"  You  see,  I've  had  enough  of  paying  several  hundred 
thousand  francs  a  year  for  the  privilege  of  being 
sneered  at  by  my  wife,  scorned  by  my  daughter,  swin- 
dled by  my  son-in-law,  and  vilified  and  anathematized 
by  all  three  of  them.  I  am  still  willing  to  go  on  paying, 
but  only  on  conditions  that  they  give  me  in  return  for 
my  money,  if  not  the  reality,  at  least  a  show  of  love, 
afïection,  and  respect.  I'm  determined  to  have  the 
semblance  of  these  things;  I'm  quite  resolved  on  that. 
Yes,  I  will  have  myself  treated  with  deference.  I'll  be'' 
petted  and  coddled  and  made  much  of,  or  else  I'll  sus- 
pend payment.  It  was  one  of  my  old  friends,  a 
parvenu  like  myself — a  man  whose  domestic  happiness 
I  have  envied  for  many  years — who  gave  me  this  re- 
ceipt: 'At  home,'  said  he,  'with  my  wife,  my  daugh- 
ters, and  my  sons-in-law,  I'm  like  a  peer  of  England 
at  an  hotel.  I  order  first-class  happiness  at  so  much  a 
month.  If  I  get  it  I  pay  for  it;  if  I  don't  get  it,  I 
cut  ofiF  the  supplies.  When  I  get  extras  I  pay  for  them 
cheerfully,  without  haggling.  Follow  my  example,  my 
old  friend,  and  you'll  have  a  comfortable  life.'  And  I 
shall  follow  his  advice,  M.  Ferailleur,  for  I  am  con- 
vinced that  his  theory  is  sound  and  practicable.  I  have 
led  this  life  long  enough.  I'll  spend  my  last  days  in 
peace,  or,  as  God  hears  me,  I'll  let  my  family  die  of 
starvation  !  " 

His  face  was  purple,  and  the  veins  on  his  forehead 
stood  out  like  whipcords,  but  not  so  much  from  anger 
as  from  the  constraint  he  imposed  upon  himself  by 
speaking  in  a  whisper.  He  drew  a  long  breath,  and 
then  in  a  calmer  tone,  resumed  :  "  But  you  must  make 


248    BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

haste  and  succeed,  M.  Ferailleur,  if  you  don't  want  the 
young  girl  you  love  to  be  deprived  of  her  rightful  her- 
itage. You  do  not  know  into  what  unworthy  hands  the 
Chalusse  property  is  about  to  fall."  He  was  on  the 
point  of  telling  Pascal  the  story  of  Madame  d'Argelès 
and  M.  Wilkie,  when  he  was  interrupted  by  the  sound 
of  a  lively  controversy  in  the  hall. 

"  Who's  taking  such  liberty  in  my  house?  "  the  baron 
began.  But  the  next  instant  he  heard  some  one  fling 
open  the  door  of  the  large  room  adjoining,  and  then  a 
coarse,  guttural  voice  called  out  :  "  What  !  he  isn't  here  ! 
This  is  too  much  !  " 

The  baron  made  an  angry  gesture.  "  That's  Kami- 
Bey,"  said  he,  "  the  Turk  whom  I  am  playing  that  great 
game  of  cards  with.  The  devil  take  him  !  He  will  be 
sure  to  force  his  way  in  here — so  we  may  as  well  join 
him,  M.  Ferailleur." 

On  reentering  the  adjoining  apartment  Pascal  beheld 
a  very  corpulent  man,  with  a  very  red  face,  a  strag- 
gling beard,  a  flat  nose,  small,  beadlike  eyes,  and 
sensual  lips.  He  was  clad  in  a  black  frock-coat,  but- 
toned tight  to  the  throat,  and  he  wore  a  fez.  This 
costume  gave  him  the  appearance  of  a  chunky  bottle, 
sealed  with  red  wax.  Such,  indeed,  was  Kami-Bey,  a 
specimen  of  those  semi-barbarians,  loaded  with  gold, 
who  are  not  attracted  to  Paris  by  its  splendors  and 
glories,  but  rather  by  its  corruption — people  who  come 
there  persuaded  that  money  will  purchase  anything  and 
everything,  and  who  often  return  home  with  the  same 
conviction.  Kami  was  no  doubt  more  impudent,  more 
cynical  and  more  arrogant  than  others  of  his  class.  As 
he  was  more  wealthy,  he  had  more  followers;  he  had 
been  more  toadied  and  flattered,  and  victimized 
to    a    greater    extent    by    the    host    of    female    in- 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE    249 

triguers,  who  look  upon  every  foreigner  as  their  right- 
ful prey. 

He  spoke  French  passably  well,  but  with  an  abom- 
inable accent.  "  Here  you  are  at  last  !  "  he  exclaimed, 
as  the  baron  entered  the  room.  "  I  was  becoming  very 
anxious." 

"  About  what,  prince?  " 

Why  Kami-Bey  was  called  prince  no  one  knew,  not 
even  the  man  himself.  Perhaps  it  was  because  the 
lackey  who  opened  his  carriage  door  on  his  arrival  at 
the  Grand  Hôtel  had  addressed  him  by  that  title. 

"  About  what  !"  he  repeated.  "  You  have  won  more 
than  tliree  hundred  thousand  francs  from  me,  and  I 
was  wondering  if  you  intended  to  give  me  the  slip." 

The  baron  frowned,  and  this  time  he  omitted  the  title 
of  prince  altogether.  "  It  seems  to  me,  sir,  that  accord- 
ing to  our  agreement,  we  were  to  play  until  one  of  us  had 
won  five  hundred  thousand  francs,"  he  said  haughtily. 

"  That's  true — but  we  ought  to  play  every  day." 

"Possibly:  but  I'm  very  busy  just  now.  I  wrote 
to  you  explaining  this,  did  I  not?  If  you  are  at  all 
uneasy,  tear  up  the  book  in  which  the  results  of  our 
games  are  noted,  and  that  shall  be  the  end  of  it.  You 
will  gain  considerably  by  the  operation." 

Kami-Bey  felt  that  the  baron  would  not  tolerate  his 
arrogance,  and  so  with  more  moderation  he  exclaimed  : 
"  It  isn't  strange  that  I've  become  suspicious.  I'm  so 
victimized  on  every  side.  Because  I'm  a  foreigner  and 
immensely  rich,  everybody  fancies  he  has  a  right  to 
plunder  me.  Men,  women,  hotel-keepers  and  mer- 
chants, all  unite  in  defrauding  me.  If  I  buy  pictures, 
they  sell  me  vile  daubs  at  fabulous  prices.  They  ask 
ridiculous  amounts  for  horses,  and  then  give  me  worth- 
less,  worn-out   animals.      Everybody   borrows   money 


250    BARON   TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

from  me — and  I'm  never  repaid.  I  shall  be  ruined  if 
this  sort  of  thing  goes  on  much  longer." 

He  had  taken  a  seat,  and  the  baron  saw  that  he  was 
not  likely  to  get  rid  of  his  guest  very  soon;  so  ap- 
proaching Pascal  he  whispered  :  "  You  had  better  go 
off,  or  you  may  miss  Valorsay.  And  be  careful,  mind  ; 
for  he  is  exceedingly  shrewd.  Courage  and  good 
luck  !  " 

Courage  !  It  was  not  necessary  to  recommend  that 
to  Pascal.  He  who  had  triumphed  over  his  despair  in 
the  terrible  hours,  when  he  had  reason  to  suppose  that 
Marguerite  believed  him  guilty  and  had  abandoned 
him,  could  scarcely  lack  courage.  While  he  was  con- 
demned to  inaction,  his  mind  had  no  doubt  been  assailed 
by  countless  doubts  and  fears  ;  but  now  that  he  knew 
whom  he  was  to  attack — now  that  the  decisive  moment 
had  come,  he  was  endowed  with  indomitable  energy; 
he  had  turned  to  bronze,  and  he  felt  sure  that  nothing 
could  disconcert  or  even  trouble  him  in  future.  The 
weapons  he  had  to  use  were  not  at  all  to  his  taste,  but 
he  had  not  been  allowed  a  choice  in  the  matter;  and 
since  his  enemies  had  decided  on  a  warfare  of  duplicity, 
he  was  resolved  to  surpass  them  in  cunning,  and  van- 
quish them  by  deception. 

So,  while  hastening  to  the  Marquis  de  Valorsay's 
residence,  he  took  stock  of  his  chances,  and  recapitu- 
lated his  resources,  striving  to  foresee  and  remember 
everything.  Thus  if  he  failed — for  he  admitted  the 
possibility  of  defeat,  without  believing  in  it — he  would 
have  no  cause  to  reproach  himself.  Only  fools  find 
consolation  in  saying  :  "  Who  could  have  foreseen 
that?"  Great  minds  do  foresee.  And  Pascal  felt  al- 
most certain  that  he  was  fully  prepared  for  any 
emergency. 


BARON   TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE    251 

That  morning,  before  leaving  home,  he  had  dressed 
with  extreme  care,  reaHzing  that  the  shabby  clothes  he 
had  worn  on  his  first  visit  to  the  Trigault  mansion 
would  not  be  appropriate  on  such  an  occasion  as  this. 
The  baron's  agent  could  scarcely  have  a  poverty- 
stricken  appearance,  for  contact  with  millionaires  is 
supposed  to  procure  wealth  as  surely  as  proximity  to 
fire  insures  warmth.  So  he  arrayed  himself  in  a  suit_ 
of  black,  which  was  neither  too  elegant  nor  too  much 
worn,  and  donned  a  broad  white  necktie.  He  could 
see  only  one  immediate,  decisive  chance  against  him. 
M.  de  Valorsay  might  possibly  recognize  him.  He 
thought  not,  but  he  was  not  sure;  and  anxious  on  this 
account,  he  at  first  decided  to  disguise  himself.  How- 
ever, on  reflection,  he  concluded  not  to  do  so.  An  im- 
perfect disguise  would  attract  attention  and  awaken 
suspicion;  and  could  he  really  disguise  his  physiog- 
nomy? He  was  certain  he  could  not.  Very  few  men 
are  capable  of  doing  so  successfully,  even  after  long 
experience.  Only  two  or  three  detectives  and  half  a 
dozen  actors  possess  the  art  of  really  changing  their 
lineaments.  Thus  after  weighing  the  pros  and  cons, 
Pascal  determined  to  present  himself  as  he  was  at  the 
marquis's  house. 

On  approaching  M.  de  Valorsay's  residence  in  the 
Avenue  des  Champs  Elysées,  he  slackened  his  pace. 
The  mansion,  which  stood  between  a  courtyard  and  a 
garden,  was  very  large  and  handsome.  The  stables 
and  carriage-house — really  elegant  structures — stood 
on  either  side  of  the  courtyard,  near  the  half-open  gate 
of  which  five  or  six  servants  were  amusing  themselves 
by  teasing  a  large  dog.  Pascal  was  just  saying  to 
himself  that  the  coast  was  clear,  and  that  he  should 
incur  no  danger  by  going  in,  when  he  saw  the  servants 


252     BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

step  aside,  the  gate  swing  back,  and  M.  de  Coralth 
emerged,  accompanied  by  a  young,  fair-haired  man, 
whose  mustaches  were  waxed  and  turned  up  in  the 
most  audacious  fashion.  They  were  arm  in  arm,  and 
turned  in  the  direction  of  the  Arc  de  Triomphe.  Pas- 
cal's heart  thrilled  with  joy.  "  Fate  favors  me  !  "  he 
said  to  himself.  "  If  it  hadn't  been  for  Kami-Bey,  who 
detained  me  a  full  quarter  of  an  hour  at  Baron 
Trigault's,  I  should  have  found  myself  face  to  face 
with  that  miserable  viscount,  and  then  all  would  have 
been  lost.     But  now  I'm  safe  !  " 

It  was  with  this  encouraging  thought  that  he  ap- 
proached the  house. 

"  The  marquis  is  very  busy  this  morning,"  said  the 
servant  to  whom  Pascal  addressed  himself  at  the  gate. 
'  I  doubt  if  he  can  see  you."  But  when  Pascal  handed 
him  one  of  his  visiting  cards,  bearing  the  name  of 
Mauméjan,  with  this  addition  in  pencil  :  "  Who  calls 
as  the  representative  of  Baron  Trigault,"  the  valet's 
face  changed  as  if  by  enchantment.  "  Oh  !  "  said  he, 
"  that's  quite  a  different  matter.  If  you  come  from 
Baron  Trigault,  you  will  be  received  with  all  the  re- 
spect due  to  the  Messiah.  Come  in.  I  will  announce 
you  myself." 

Everything  in  M.  de  Valorsay's  house,  as  at  the 
baron's  residence,  indicated  great  wealth,  and  yet  a 
close  observer  would  have  detected  a  difference.  The 
luxury  of  the  Rue  de  la  Ville-l'Evéque  was  of  a  real 
and  substantial  character,  which  one  did  not  find  in  the 
Avenue  des  Champs  Elysées.  Everything  in  the  mar- 
quis's abode  bore  marks  of  the  haste  which  mars  the 
merest  trifle  produced  at  the  present  age.  "  Take  a 
seat  here,  and  I  will  see  where  the  marquis  is,"  said  the 
servant,  as  he  ushered  Pascal  into  a  large  drawing- 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE     253 

room.  The  apartment  was  elegantly  furnished,  but  had 
somewhat  lost  its  freshness  ;  the  carpet,  which  had  once 
been  a  marvel  of  beauty,  was  stained  in  several  places, 
and  as  the  servants  had  not  always  been  careful  to  keep 
the  shutters  closed,  the  sunlight  had  perceptibly  faded 
the  curtains.  The  attention  of  visitors  was  at  once 
attracted  by  the  number  of  gold  and  silver  cups,  vases, 
and  statuettes  scattered  about  on  side-tables  and  chef- 
foniers.  Each  of  these  objects  bore  an  inscription, 
setting  forth  that  it  had  been  won  at  such  a  race,  in 
such  a  year,  by  such  a  horse,  belonging  to  the  Alarquis 
de  Valorsay.  These  were  indeed  the  marquis's  chief 
claims  to  glory,  and  had  cost  him  at  least  half  of  the 
immense  fortune  he  had  inherited.  However,  Pascal 
did  not  take  much  interest  in  these  trophies,  so  the  time 
of  waiting  seemed  long.  "  Valorsay  is  playing  the 
diplomat,"  he  thought.  "  He  doesn't  wish  to  appear 
to  be  anxious.  Unfortunately,  his  servant  has  betrayed 
him." 

At  last  the  valet  returned.  "  The  marquis  will  see 
you  now,  monsieur,"  said  he. 

This  summons  affected  Pascal's  heart  like  the  first 
roll  of  a  drum  beating  the  charge.  But  his  coolness  did 
not  desert  him.  "  Now  is  the  decisive  moment,"  he 
thought.  "  Heaven  grant  that  he  may  not  recognize 
me  !  "    And  with  a  firm  step  he  followed  the  valet. 

M.  de  Valorsay  was  seated  in  the  apartment  he 
usually  occupied  when  he  remained  at  home — a  little 
smoking-room  connected  with  his  bedroom.  He  was  to 
all  intents  busily  engaged  in  examining  some  sporting 
journals.  A  bottle  of  Madeira  and  a  partially  filled 
glass  stood  near  him.  As  the  servant  announced 
"  Monsieur  Mauméjan  !  "  he  looked  up  and  his  eyes 
met  Pascal's.     But  his  glance  did  not  waver;  not  a 


254     BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

muscle  of  his  face  moved  ;  his  countenance  retained  its 
usually  cold  and  disdainful  expression.  Evidently  he 
had  not  the  slightest  suspicion  that  the  man  he  had 
tried  to  ruin — his  mortal  enemy — was  standing  there 
before  him. 

"  M.  Mauméjan,"  said  he,  "Baron  Trigault's  agent?" 

"  Yes,  monsieur " 

"Pray  be  seated.  I  am  just  finishing  here;  I  shall 
be  at  leisure  in  a  moment." 

Pascal  took  a  chair.  He  had  feared  that  he  might 
not  be  able  to  retain  his  self-control  when  he  found 
himself  in  the  presence  of  the  scoundrel  who,  after 
destroying  his  happiness,  ruining  his  future,  and  de- 
priving him  of  his  honor — dearer  than  life  itself — was 
at  that  moment  endeavoring,  by  the  most  infamous 
manœuvres,  to  rob  him  of  the  woman  he  loved.  "  If 
my  blood  mounted  to  my  brain,"  he  had  thought,  "  I 
should  spring  upon  him  and  strangle  him  !  "  But  no. 
His  arteries  did  not  throb  more  quickly;  it  was  with 
perfect  calmness — the  calmness  of  a  strong  nature — 
that  he  stealthily  watched  M.  de  Valorsay.  If  he  had 
seen  him  a  week  before  he  would  have  been  startled 
by  the  change  which  the  past  few  days  had  wrought  in 
this  brilliant  nobleman's  appearance.  He  was  little 
more  than  a  shadow  of  his  former  self.  And  seen  at 
this  hour,  before  placing  himself  in  his  valet's  hands, 
before  his  premature  decrepitude  had  been  concealed 
by  the  artifices  of  the  toilet,  he  was  really  frightful. 
His  face  was  haggard,  and  his  red  and  swollen  eyelids 
betrayed  a  long-continued  want  of  sleep. 

The  fact  is,  he  had  sufifered  terribly  during  the  past 
week.  A  man  may  be  a  scapegrace  and  a  spendthrift 
and  may  boast  of  it;  he  may  have  no  principle  and  no 
conscience;  he  may  be  immoral,  he  may  defy  God  and 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE     255 

the  devil,  but  it  is  nevertheless  true  that  he  suffers 
fearful  anguish  of  mind  when  he  is  guilty,  for  the  first 
time,  of  a  positive  crime,  forbidden  by  the  laws  and 
punishable  with  the  galleys.  And  who  can  say  how 
many  crimes  the  Marquis  de  Valorsay  had  committed 
since  the  day  he  provided  his  accomplice,  the  Viscount 
de  Coralth,  with  those  fatal  cards?  And  apart  from 
this  there  was  something  extremely  appalling  in  the 
position  of  this  ruined  millionaire,  who  was  contending 
desperately  against  his  creditors  for  the  vain  appear- 
ance of  splendor,  with  the  despairing  energy  of  a  ship- 
wrecked mariner  struggling  for  the  possession  of  a 
floating  spar.  Had  he  not  confessed  to  M.  Fortunat 
that  he  had  suffered  the  tortures  of  the  damned  in  his 
struggle  to  maintain  a  show  of  wealth,  while  he  was 
often  without  a  penny  in  his  pocket,  and  was  ever  sub- 
ject to  the  pitiless  surveillance  of  thirty  servants?  His 
agony,  when  he  thought  of  his  precarious  condition, 
could  only  be  compared  to  that  of  a  miner,  who,  while 
ascending  from  the  bowels  of  the  earth,  finds  that  the 
rope,  upon  which  his  life  depends,  is  slowly  parting 
strand  by  strand,  and  who  asks  himself,  in  terror,  if 
the  few  threads  that  still  remain  unsevered  will  be 
strong  enough  to  raise  him  to  the  mouth  of  the  pit. 

However,  the  moment  which  M.  de  Valorsay  had 
asked  for  had  lengthened  into  a  quarter  of  an  hour, 
and  he  had  not  yet  finished  his  work.  "  What  the  devil 
is  he  doing?  "  wondered  Pascal,  who  was  following  his 
enemy's  slightest  movement  with  eager  curiosity. 

Countless  sporting  newspapers  were  strewn  over  the 
table,  the  chairs,  and  the  floor  around  the  marquis,  who 
took  them  up  one  after  another,  glanced  rapidly 
through  their  columns,  and  threw  them  on  the  floor 
açain,  or  placed  them  on  a  pile  before  him,  first  mark- 


256    BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

ing  certain  passages  with  a  red  pencil.  At  last,  prob- 
ably fearing  that  Pascal  was  growing  impatient,  he 
looked  up  and  said  : 

"  I  am  really  very  sorry  to  keep  you  waiting  so  long, 
but  some  one  is  waiting  for  this  work  to  be  com- 
pleted." 

"  Oh  !  pray  continue,  Monsieur  le  Marquis,"  inter- 
rupted Pascal.  "  Strange  to  say,  I  have  a  little  leisure 
at  my  command  just  now." 

The  marquis  seemed  to  feel  that  it  was  necessary  to 
make  some  remark  in  acknowledgment  of  this  courtesy 
on  his  visitor's  part,  and  so,  as  he  continued  his  work, 
he  condescended  to  explain  its  purpose.  "  I  am  playing 
the  part  of  a  commentator,"  he  remarked.  "  I  sold 
seven  of  my  horses  a  few  days  ago,  and  the  purchaser, 
before  paying  the  stipulated  price,  naturally  required 
an  exact  and  authentic  statement  of  each  animal's  per- 
formances. However,  even  this  does  not  seem  to  have 
satisfied  the  gentleman,  for  he  has  now  taken  it  into  his 
head  to  ask  for  such  copies  of  the  sporting  journals  as 
record  the  victories  or  defeats  of  the  animals  he  has 
purchased.  A  gentleman  is  not  so  exacting  generally. 
It  is  true,  however,  that  I  have  a  foreigner  to  deal  with 
— one  of  those  half-civilized  nabobs  who  come  here 
every  year  to  astonish  the  Parisians  with  their  wealth 
and  display,  and  who,  by  their  idiotic  prodigality,  have 
so  increased  the  price  of  everything  that  life  has  be- 
come well-nigh  an  impossibility  to  such  of  us  as  don't 
care  to  squander  an  entire  fortune  in  a  couple  of  years. 
These  folks  are  the  curse  of  Paris,  for,  with  but  few 
exceptions,  they  only  use  their  millions  to  enrich  notori- 
ous women,  scoundrels,  hotel-keepers,  and  jockeys." 

Pascal  at  once  thought  of  the  foreigner,  Kami-Bey, 
whom  he  had  met  at  Baron  Trigault's  half  an  hour 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE    257 

before,  and  who  had  complained  so  bitterly  of  having 
had  worthless  scrubs  palmed  off  upon  him  when  he 
fancied  he  had  purchased  valuable  animals.  "  Kami- 
Bey  must  be  this  exacting  purchaser,"  thought  Pascal, 
"  and  it's  probable  that  the  marquis,  desperately  strait- 
ened as  he  is,  has  committed  one  of  those  frauds  which 
lead  their  perpetrator  to  prison?"  The  surmise  was 
by  no  means  far-fetched,  for  in  sporting  matters,  at 
least,  there  was  cause  to  suspect  Valorsay  of  great 
elasticity  of  conscience.  Had  he  not  already  been  ac- 
cused of  defrauding  Domingo's  champions  by  a  con- 
spiracy ? 

At  last  the  marquis  heaved  a  sigh  of  relief.  "  I've 
finished,"  he  muttered,  as  he  tied  up  the  bundle  of 
papers  he  had  laid  aside,  and  after  ringing  the  bell,  he 
said  to  the  servant  who  answered  the  summons  :  "  Here, 
take  this  package  to  Prince  Kami  at  the  Grand  Hôtel." 

Pascal's  presentiments  had  not  deceived  him,  and 
he  said  to  himself  :  "  This  is  a  good  thing  to  know. 
Before  this  evening  I  shall  look  into  this  affair  a  little." 

A  storm  was  decidedly  gathering  over  the  Marquis 
de  Valorsay's  head.  Did  he  know  it?  Certainly  he 
must  have  expected  it.  Still  he  had  sworn  to  stand 
fast  until  the  end.  Besides,  he  would  not  concede  that 
all  was  lost;  and,  like  most  great  gamblers,  he  told 
himself  that  since  he  had  so  much  at  stake,  he  might 
reasonably  hope  to  succeed.  He  rose,  stretched  him- 
self, as  a  man  is  apt  to  do  after  the  conclusion  of  a 
tiresome  task,  and  then,  leaning  against  the  mantel- 
shelf, he  exclaimed:  "Now,  Monsieur  Mauméjan,  let 
us  speak  of  the  business  that  brings  you  here."  His 
negligent  attitude  and  his  careless  tone  were  admirably 
assumed,  but  a  shrewd  observer  would  not  have  been 
deceived  by  them,  or  by  the  indifferent  manner  in  which 


258    BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

he  added  :  "  You  bring  me  some  money  from  Baron 
Trigault  ?  " 

Pascal  shook  his  head,  as  he  repHed  :  "  I  regret  to 
say  that  I  don't,  Monsieur  le  Marquis." 

This  response  had  the  same  effect  as  a  heavy  rock 
falling  upon  M.  de  Valorsay's  bald  pate.  He  turned 
whiter  than  his  linen,  and  even  tottered,  as  if  his  lame 
leg,  which  was  so  much  affected  by  sudden  changes  in 
the  weather,  had  utterly  refused  all  service.  "  What  ! 
you  haven't — this  is  undoubtedly  a  joke." 

"  It  is  only  too  serious  !  " 

"  But  I  had  the  baron's  word." 

"  Oh  !  his  word  1  " 

"  I  had  his  solemn  promise." 

"  It  is  sometimes  impossible  to  keep  one's  promises, 
sir." 

The  consequences  of  this  disappointment  must  have 
been  terrible,  for  the  marquis  could  not  maintain  his 
self-control.  Still  he  strove  valiantly  to  conceal  his 
emotion.  He  thought  to  himself  that  if  he  allowed  this 
man  to  see  what  a  terrible  blow  this  really  was,  he 
would  virtually  confess  his  absolute  ruin,  and  have  to 
renounce  the  struggle,  and  own  himself  vanquished  and 
lost.  So,  summoning  all  his  energy,  he  mastered  his 
emotion  in  some  degree,  and,  instead  of  appearing  des- 
perate, succeeded  in  looking  only  irritated  and  annoyed. 
"  In  short,"  he  resumed,  angrily,  "  you  have  brought  no 
money  !  I  counted  on  a  hundred  thousand  francs  this 
morning.  Nothing!  This  is  kind  on  the  baron's  part! 
But  probably  he  doesn't  understand  the  embarrassing 
position  in  which  he  places  me." 

"  Excuse  me.  Monsieur  le  Marquis,  he  understands 
it  so  well  that,  instead  of  informing  you  by  a  simple 
note,  he  sent  me  to  acquaint  you  with  his  sincere  regret. 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE    259 

When  I  left  him  an  hour  ago,  he  was  really  discon- 
solate. He  was  particularly  anxious  I  should  tell  you 
that  it  was  not  his  fault.  He  counted  upon  the  payment 
of  two  very  large  amounts,  and  both  of  these  have 
failed  him." 

The  marquis  had  now  recovered  a  little  from  the 
shock,  though  he  was  still  very  pale.  He  looked  at 
Pascal  with  evident  distrust,  for  he  knew  with  what 
sweet  excuses  well-bred  people  envelope  their  refusals. 
"  So  the  baron  is  disconsolate,"  he  remarked,  in  a  tone 
of  perceptible  irony. 
"  He  is  indeed  !  " 

"  Poor  baron  !  Ah  !  I  pity  him — pity  him  deeply." 
As  cold  and  as  unmoved  as  a  statue,  Pascal  seemed 
quite  unconscious  of  the  effect  of  the  message  he  had 
brought — quite  unconscious  of  Valorsay's  sufferings 
and  self-constraint.  "  You  think  I  am  jesting,  mon- 
sieur," he  said,  quietly,  "  but  I  assure  you  that  the 
baron  is  very  short  of  money  just  now." 

"  Nonsense  !  a  man  worth  seven  or  eight  millions  of 
francs." 

"  I  should  say  ten  millions,  at  least." 
"  Then  the  excuse  is  all  the  more  absurd." 
Pascal  shrugged  his  shoulders  disdainfully.  "  It 
astonishes  me,  Monsieur  le  Marquis,  to  hear  you  speak 
in  this  way.  It  is  not  the  magnitude  of  a  man's  income 
that  constitutes  affluence,  but  rather  the  way  in  which 
that  income  is  spent.  In  this  foolish  age,  almost  all 
rich  people  are  in  arrears.  What  income  does  the 
baron  derive  from  his  ten  millions  of  francs?  Not 
more  than  five  hundred  thousand.  A  very  handsome 
fortune,  no  doubt,  and  I  should  be  more  than  content 
with  it.  But  the  baron  gambles,  and  the  baroness  is 
the  most  elegant — in  other  words,  the  most  extravagant 


260    BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

—woman  in  Paris.  They  both  of  them  love  luxury, 
and  their  establishment  is  kept  up  in  princely  style. 
What  are  five  hundred  thousand  francs  under  such  cir- 
cumstances as  those?  Their  situation  must  be  some- 
thing like  that  of  several  millionaires  of  my  acquaint- 
ance, who  are  obliged  to  take  their  silver  to  the  pawn- 
broker's while  waiting  for  their  rents  to  fall  due." 

This  excuse  might  not  be  true,  but  it  was  certainly 
a  very  plausible  one.  Had  not  a  recent  lawsuit  re- 
vealed the  fact  that  certain  rich  folks,  who  had  an 
income  of  more  than  a  hundred  thousand  francs  a  year, 
had  kept  a  thieving  coachman  for  six  months,  simply 
because,  in  all  that  time,  they  were  not  able  to  raise 
the  eight  hundred  francs  they  owed  him,  and  which 
must  be  paid  before  he  was  dismissed?  M.  de  Val- 
orsay  knew  this,  but  a  terrible  disquietude  seized  him. 
Had  people  begun  to  suspect  his  embarrassment?  Had 
any  rumor  of  it  reached  Baron  Trigault's  ears?  This 
was  what  he  wished  to  ascertain.  "  Let  us  understand 
each  other.  Monsieur  Maumejan,"  said  he  ;  "  the  baron 
was  unable  to  procure  this  money  he  had  promised  me 
to-day — but  when  will  he  let  me  have  it?  " 

Pascal  opened  his  eyes  in  pretended  astonishment, 
and  it  was  with  an  air  of  the  utmost  simplicity  that  he 
replied,  "  I  concluded  the  baron  would  take  no  further 
action  in  the  matter.  I  judged  so  from  his  parting 
words  :  '  It  consoles  me  a  little,'  he  said,  '  to  think  that 
the  Marquis  de  Valorsay  is  very  rich  and  very  well 
known,  and  that  he  has  a  dozen  friends  who  will  be 
delighted  to  do  him  this  trifling  service.'  " 

Until  now,  M,  de  Valorsay  had  cherished  a  hope  that 
the  loan  was  only  delayed,  and  the  certainty  that  the 
decision  was  final,  crushed  him.  "  My  ruin's  known," 
he  thought,  and  feeling  that  his  strength  was  deserting 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE     261 

him,  he  poured  out  a  brimming  glass  of  Madeira,  which 
he  emptied  at  a  single  draught.  The  wine  lent  him 
fictitious  energy.  Fury  mounted  to  his  brain  ;  he  lost 
all  control  over  himself,  and  springing  up,  with  his 
face  purple  \a  ith  rage,  he  exclaimed  :  "  It's  a  shame  !  an 
infamous  shame  !  and  Trigault  deserves  to  be  severely 
punished.  He  has  no  business  to  keep  a  man  in  hot 
water  for  three  days  about  such  a  trifle.  If  he  had  said 
'  No  '  in  the  first  place,  I  should  have  made  other  ar- 
rangements, and  I  shouldn't  now  find  myself  in  a 
dilemma  from  which  I  see  no  possible  way  of  escape. 
No  gentleman  would  have  been  guilty  of  such  a  con- 
temptible act — no  one  but  a  shopkeeper  or  a  thief  would 
have  stooped  to  such  meanness  !  This  is  the  result  of 
admitting  these  ridiculous  parvenus  into  society,  just 
because  they  happen  to  have  money." 

It  certainly  hurt  Pascal  to  hear  these  insults  heaped 
upon  the  baron,  and  it  hurt  him  all  the  more  since  they 
were  entirely  due  to  the  course  he  had  personally 
adopted. 

However,  a  gesture,  even  a  frown,  might  endanger 
the  success  of  his  undertaking,  so  he  preserved  an  im- 
passive countenance.  "  I  must  say  that  I  don't  under- 
stand your  indignation.  Monsieur  le  Marquis,"  he  said, 
coldly.  "  I  can  see  why  you  might  feel  annoyed,  but 
why  you  should  fly  into  a  passion " 

"  Ah  !  you  don't  know "  began  M.  de  Valorsay, 

but  he  stopped  short.  It  was  time.  The  truth  had 
almost  escaped  his  lips. 

"  Know  what?  "  inquired  Pascal. 

But  the  marquis  was  again  upon  his  guard.  "  I  have 
a  debt  that  must  be  paid  this  evening,  at  all  hazards — 
a  sacred  obligation — in  short,  a  debt  of  honor." 

"  A  debt  of  one  hundred  thousand  francs  ?  " 


262    BARON   TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

"  No,  it  is  only  twenty-five  thousand." 

"  Is  it  possible  that  a  rich  man  like  you  can  be 
troubled  about  such  a  trifling  sum,  which  any  one 
would  lend  you  ?  " 

M.  de  Valorsay  interrupted  him  with  a  contemptuous 
sneer.  "  Didn't  you  just  tell  me  that  we  were  living 
in  an  age  when  no  one  has  any  money  except  those 
who  are  in  business?  The  richest  of  my  friends  have 
only  enough  for  themselves,  even  if  they  have  enough. 
The  time  of  old  stockings,  stufïed  full  of  savings,  is 
past  !  Shall  I  apply  to  a  banker  ?  He  would  ask  two 
days  for  reflection,  and  he  would  require  the  names  of 
two  or  three  of  my  friends  on  the  note.  If  I  go  to 
my  notary,  there  will  be  endless  forms  to  be  gone 
through,  and  remonstrances  without  number." 

For  a  moment  or  more  already,  Pascal  had  been 
moving  about  uneasily  on  his  chair,  like  a  man  who  is 
waiting  for  an  opportunity  to  make  a  suggestion,  and 
as  soon  as  M.  de  Valorsay  paused  to  take  breath,  he 
exclaimed  :  "  Upon  my  word  !  if  I  dared " 

"Well?" 

"  I  would  ofïer  to  obtain  you  these  twenty-five  thou- 
sand francs." 

"You?" 

"Yes,  I." 

"Before  six  o'clock  this  evening?" 

"  Certainly." 

A  glass  of  ice-water  presented  to  a  parched  traveller 
while  journeying  over  the  desert  sands  of  Sahara  could 
not  impart  greater  relief  and  delight  than  the  marquis 
experienced  on  hearing  Pascal's  offer.  He  literally 
felt  that  he  was  restored  to  life. 

For  ruin  was  inevitable  if  he  did  not  succeed  in 
obtaining  twenty-five  thousand  francs  that  day.     If  he 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE    263 

could  procure  that  amount  he  might  obtain  a  momen- 
tary respite,  and  to  gain  time  was  the  main  thing. 
Moreover,  the  offer  was  a  sufficient  proof  that  his 
financial  difficulties  were  not  known.  "  Ah  !  I  have 
had  a  fortunate  escape,"  he  thought.  "  What  if  I  had 
revealed  the  truth  !  " 

But  he  was  careful  to  conceal  the  secret  joy  that  filled 
his  heart.  He  feared  lest  he  might  say  "  Yes  "  too 
quickly,  so  betray  his  secret,  and  place  himself  at  the 
mercy  of  the  baron's  envoy.  "  I  would  willingly  accept 
your  offer,"  he  exclaimed,  "  if " 

"If  what?" 

"  Would  it  be  proper  for  me,  after  the  baron  has 
treated  me  in  such  a  contemptible  manner,  to  have  any 
dealings  with  one  of  his  subordinates  ?  " 

Pascal  protested  vigorously.  "  Allow  me  to  say,"  he 
exclaimed,  "  that  I  am  not  any  one's  subordinate. 
Trigault  is  my  client,  like  thirty  or  forty  others — nothing 
more.  He  employs  me  in  certain  difficult  and  delicate 
negotiations,  which  I  conduct  to  the  best  of  my  ability. 
He  pays  me,  and  we  are  each  of  us  perfectly  inde- 
pendent of  the  other." 

From  the  look  which  Valorsay  gave  Pascal,  one 
would  have  sworn  that  he  suspected  who  his  visitor 
really  was.  But  such  was  not  the  case.  It  was  simply 
this  :  a  strange,  but  by  no  means  impossible,  idea  had 
flashed  through  the  marquis's  mind — "  Oh  !  "  thought 
he,  "  this  unknown  party  with  whom  Mauméjan  offers 
to  negotiate  the  loan,  is  probably  none  other  than  the 
baron  himself.  That  worthy  gambler  has  invented  this 
ingenious  method  of  obliging  me  so  as  to  extort  a  rate 
of  interest  which  he  would  not  dare  to  demand  openly. 
And  why  not?  There  have  been  plenty  of  such  in- 
stances.    Isn't  it  a  well-known  fact  that  the  N 


264     BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

Brothers,  the  most  rigidly  honest  financiers  in  the 
world,  have  never  under  any  circumstances  directly 
obliged  one  of  their  friends?  If  their  own  father,  of 
whom  they  always  speak  with  the  greatest  veneration, 
asked  them  to  lend  him  fifty  francs  for  a  month,  they 
would  say  to  him  as  they  do  to  every  one  else  :  '  Wc 
are   rather   cramped    just    now;   but    see   that    rascal 

B .'   And  that  rascal  B ,  who  is  the  most  pliable 

tool  in  existence,  will,  providing  father  N offers 

unquestionable  security,  lend  the  old  gentleman  his 
son's  money  at  from  twelve  to  fifteen  per  cent,  interest, 
plus  a  small  commission." 

These  ideas  and  recollections  were  of  consider- 
able assistance  in  restoring  Valorsay's  composure. 
"  Enough  said,  then,"  he  answered,  lightly.  "  I  accept 
with  pleasure.     But " 

"  Ah  !  so  there  is  a  but  !  " 

"  There  is  always  one.  I  must  warn  you  that  it  will 
be  difficult  for  me  to  repay  this  loan  in  less  than  two 
months." 

This,  then,  was  the  time  he  thought  necessary  for  the 
accomplishment  of  his  designs. 

"  That  does  not  matter,"  replied  Pascal,  "  and  even 
if  you  desire  a  longer  delay " 

"  That  will  be  unnecessary,  thank  you  !  But  there  is 
one  thing  more." 

"What  is  that?" 

"  What  will  this  negotiation  cost  me  ?  " 

Pascal  had  expected  this  question,  and  he  had  pre- 
pared a  reply  which  was  in  perfect  keeping  with  the 
spirit  of  the  rôle  he  had  assumed.  "  I  shall  charge  you 
the  ordinary  rates,"  he  answered,  "  six  per  cent,  inter- 
est, plus  one-and-a-half  per  cent,  commission." 

"Bah!" 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE    265 

"  Plus  the  remuneration  for  my  trouble  and  services." 
"And  what  remuneration  will  satisfy  you?" 
"  One  thousand  francs.     Is  it  too  much?  " 
If  the  marquis  had  retained  the  shadow  of  a  doubt, 
it  vanished  now.    "  Ah  !  "  he  sneered,  "  that  strikes  me 
as  a  very  liberal  compensation  for  your  services  !  " 

But  he  would  gladly  have  recalled  the  sneer  when  he 
saw  how  the  agent  received  it.  Pascal  drew  up  his 
head  with  a  deeply  injured  air,  and  remarked  in  the 
chilling  tone  of  a  person  who  is  strongly  tempted  to-' 
retract  his  word,  "  Then  there  is  nothing  more  to  be 
said,  M.  le  Marquis;  and  since  you  find  the  conditions 

onerous ■" 

"  I  did  not  say  so,"  interrupted  M.  de  Valorsay, 
quickly — "  I  did  not  even  think  it  !  " 

This  gave  Pascal  an  opportunity  to  present  his  pro- 
gramme, and  he  availed  himself  of  it.  "  Others  may 
pretend  to  oblige  people  merely  from  motives  of  friend- 
ship," he  remarked.  "  But  I  am  more  honest.  If  I 
do  anything  in  the  way  of  business,  I  expect  to  be  paid 
for  it;  and  I  vary  my  terms  according  to  my  clients' 
need.  It  would  be  impossible  to  have  a  fixed  price 
for  services  like  mine.  When,  on  two  different  occa- 
sions, I  saved  a  gentleman  of  your  acquaintance  from 
bankruptcy,  I  asked  ten  thousand  francs  the  first  time, 
and  fifteen  thousand  the  second.  Was  that  an  exag- 
gerated estimate  of  my  services?  I  might  boast  with 
truth  that  I  once  assured  the  marriage  of  a  brilliant 
viscount  by  keeping  his  creditors  quiet  while  his  court- 
ship was  in  progress.  The  day  after  the  wedding  he 
paid  me  twenty  thousand  francs.  Didn't  he  owe  them 
to  me?  If,  instead  of  being  a  trifle  short  of  money,  you 
happened  to  be  ruined,  I  should  not  ask  you  merely 
for  a  thousand  francs.     I  should  study  your  position, 


266    BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

and  fix  my  terms  according  to  the  magnitude  of  the 
peril  from  which  I  rescued  you." 

There  was  not  a  sentence,  not  a  word  of  this  cynical 
explanation  which  had  not  been  carefully  studied  be- 
forehand. There  was  not  an  expression  which  was  not 
a  tempting  bait  to  the  marquis's  evil  instincts.  But  M 
de  Valorsay  made  no  sign.  "  I  see  that  you  are  a 
shrewd  man,  Monsieur  Mauméjan,"  said  he,  "  and  if 
I  am  ever  in  difficulty  I  shall  apply  to  you." 

Pascal  bowed  with  an  air  of  assumed  modesty;  but 
he  was  inwardly  jubilant,  for  he  felt  that  his  enemy 
would  certainly  fall  into  the  trap  which  had  been  set 
for  him.  "  And  now,  when  shall  I  have  this  money?  " 
inquired  the  marquis. 

"  By  four  o'clock." 

"  And  I  need  fear  no  disappointment  as  in  the  baron's 
case  ?  " 

"  Certainly  not.  What  interest  would  M.  Trigault 
have  in  lending  you  a  hundred  thousand  francs  ?  None 
whatever.  With  me  it  is  quite  a  different  thing.  The 
profit  I'm  to  realize  is  your  security.  In  business  mat- 
ters distrust  your  friends.  Apply  to  usurers  rather  than 
to  them.  Question  people  who  are  in  difficulties,  and 
ninety-five  out  of  a  hundred  will  tell  you  that  their 
worst  troubles  have  been  caused  by  those  who  called 
themselves  their  best  friends." 

He  had  risen  to  take  leave,  when  the  door  of  the 
smoking-room  opened,  and  a  servant  appeared  and  said 
in  an  undertone  :  "  Madame  Léon  is  in  the  drawing- 
room  with  Dr.  Jodon.    They  wish  to  see  you,  monsieur." 

Though  Pascal  had  armed  himself  well  against  any 
unexpected  mischance,  he  changed  color  on  hearing  the 
name  of  the  worthy  housekeeper.  "  All  is  lost  if  this 
creature  sees  and  recognizes  me  !  "  he  thought. 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE     267 

Fortunately  the  marquis  was  too  much  engrossed  in 
his  own  affairs  to  note  the  momentary  agitation  of 
Baron  Trigault's  envoy.  "  It  is  strange  that  I  can't 
have  five  minutes'  peace  and  quietness,"  he  said.  "  I 
told  you  that  I  was  at  home  to  no  one." 

"  But " 

"  Enough  !     Let  the  lady  and  gentleman  wait." 

The  servant  withdrew. 

The  thought  of  passing  out  through  the  drawing- 
room  filled  Pascal  with  consternation.  How  could  he 
hope  to  escape  Madame  Leon's  keen  eyes  ?  Fortunately 
M.  de  Valorsay  came  to  his  relief,  for  as  Pascal  was 
about  to  open  the  same  door  by  which  he  had  entered, 
the  marquis  exclaimed  :  "  Not  that  way  !  Pass  out  here 
— this  is  the  shortest  way." 

And  leading  him  through  his  bedroom  the  marquis 
conducted  him  to  the  staircase,  where  he  even  feigned 
to  offer  him  his  hand,  saying  :  "  A  speedy  return,  dear 
M.  Mauméjan." 

It  is  not  at  the  moment  of  peril  that  people  endure 
the  worst  agony;  it  is  afterward,  when  they  have  es- 
caped it.  As  he  went  down  the  staircase,  Pascal 
wiped  the  cold  sweat  from  his  forehead.  "  Ah  !  it 
was  a  narrow  escape  !  "  he  exclaimed,  under  his 
breath. 

He  felt  proud  of  the  manner  in  which  he  had  sus- 
tained a  part  so  repugnant  to  his  nature.  He  was 
amazed  to  find  that  he  could  utter  falsehoods  with  such 
a  calm,  unblushing  face — he  was  astonished  at  his  own 
audacity.  And  what  a  success  he  had  achieved!  He 
felt  certain  that  he  had  just  slipped  round  M.  de  Val- 
orsay's  neck  the  noose  which  would  strangle  him  later 
on.  Still  he  was  considerably  disturbed  by  Madame 
Leon's  visit  to  the  marquis.     "  What  is  she  doing  here 


268    BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

with  this  physician?  "  he  asked  himself  again  and  again. 
"  Who  is  this  man  ?  What  new  piece  of  infamy  are 
they  plotting  to  require  his  services?"  One  of  those 
presentiments  which  are  prompted  by  the  logic  of 
events,  told  him  that  this  physician  had  been,  or  would 
be,  one  of  the  actors  in  the  vile  conspiracy  of  which  he 
and  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  were  the  victims.  But 
he  had  no  leisure  to  devote  to  the  solution  of  this 
enigma.  Time  was  flying,  and  before  returning  to  the 
marquis's  house  he  must  find  out  what  had  aroused  the 
suspicions  of  the  purchaser  of  those  horses,  the  biog- 
raphies of  which  had  been  so  rigidly  exacted.  Through 
the  baron,  he  might  hope  to  obtain  an  interview  with 
Kami-Bey — and  so  it  was  to  the  baron's  house  that 
Pascal  directed  his  steps. 

After  the  more  than  cordial  reception  which  the 
baron  had  granted  him  that  morning,  it  was  quite  nat- 
ural that  the  servants  should  receive  him  as  a  friend 
of  the  household.  They  would  scarcely  allow  him  to 
explain  what  he  desired.  It  was  the  pompous  head 
valet  in  person  who  ushered  him  into  one  of  the  small 
reception-rooms,  exclaiming  :  "  The  baron's  engaged, 
but  I'm  sure  he  would  be  annoyed  if  he  failed  to  see 
you  ;  and  I  will  inform  him  at  once." 

A  moment  later,  the  baron  entered  quite  breathless 
from  his  hurried  descent  of  the  staircase.  "  Ah  !  you 
have  been  successful,"  he  exclaimed,  on  seeing  Pascal's 
face. 

"  Everything  is  progressing  as  favorably  as  I  could 
wish.  Monsieur  le  Baron,  but  I  must  speak  with  that 
foreigner  whom  I  met  here  this  morning." 

"Kami-Bey?" 

"  Yes."  And  in  a  few  words,  Pascal  explained  the 
situation. 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE     269 

"  Providence  is  certainly  on  our  side,"  said  the  baron, 
thoughtfully.     "  Kami  is  still  here." 

"  Is  it  possible?  " 

"  It's  a  fact.  Did  you  think  it  would  be  easy  to  get 
rid  of  this  confounded  Turk  !  He  invited  himself  to 
breakfast  without  the  slightest  ceremony,  and  would 
give  me  no  peace  until  I  promised  to  play  with  him 
for  two  hours.  I  was  closeted  with  him,  cards  in  hand, 
when  they  told  me  you  were  here.  Come,  we'll  go  and 
question  him." 

They  found  the  interesting  foreigner  in  a  savage 
mood.  He  had  been  winning  when  the  servant  came 
for  the  baron,  and  he  feared  that  an  interruption  would 
change  the  luck.  "What  the  devil  took  you  away?" 
he  exclaimed,  with  that  coarseness  of  manner  which 
was  habitual  with  him,  and  which  the  flatterers  around 
him  styled  "  form."  "  A  man  should  no  more  be  dis- 
turbed when  he's  playing  than  when  he's  eating." 

"  Come,  come,  prince,"  said  the  baron,  good-natured- 
ly, "  don't  be  angry,  and  I'll  give  you  three  hours 
instead  of  two.    But  I  have  a  favor  to  ask  of  you." 

The  foreigner  at  once  thrust  his  hand  into  his  pocket, 
with  such  a  natural  gesture,  that  neither  the  baron  nor 
Pascal  could  repress  a  smile,  and  he  himself  under- 
standing the  cause  of  their  merriment  broke  into  a 
hearty  laugh.     "  It's  purely  from  force  of  habit,"  said 

he.    "  Ah  !  since  I've  been  in  Paris But  what  do 

you  wish  ?  " 

The  baron  sat  down,  and  gravely  replied  :  "  You  told 
us  scarcely  an  hour  ago  that  you  had  been  cheated  in 
the  purchase  of  some  horses." 

"  Cheated  !  it  was  worse  than  highway  robbery." 

"  Would  it  be  indiscreet  to  ask  you  by  whom  you 
have  been  defrauded  ?  " 


270     BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

Kami-Bey's  purple  cheeks  became  a  trifle  pale. 
"  Hum  !  "  said  he,  in  an  altered  tone  of  voice,  "  that  is 
a  delicate  question.  My  defrauder  appears  to  be  a 
dangerous  fellow — a  duellist — and  if  I  disclose  his 
knavery,  he  is  quite  capable  of  picking  a  quarrel  with 
me — not  that  I  am  afraid  of  him,  I  assure  you,  but  my 
principles  don't  allow  me  to  fight.  When  a  man  has 
an  income  of  a  million,  he  doesn't  care  to  expose  him- 
self to  the  dangers  of  a  duel." 

"  But,  prince,  in  France  folks  don't  do  a  scoundrel 
the  honor  to  cross  swords  with  him." 

"  That's  just  what  my  steward,  who  is  a  Frenchman, 
told  me  ;  but  no  matter.  Besides,  I  am  not  sufficiently 
sure  of  the  man's  guilt  to  noise  it  abroad.  I  have  no 
positive  proofs  as  yet." 

He  was  evidently  terribly  frightened,  and  the  first 
thing  to  be  done  was  to  reassure  him.  "  Come,"  in- 
sisted the  baron,  "  tell  us  the  man's  name.  This  gentle- 
man here  " — pointing  to  Pascal — "  is  one  of  my  most 
esteemed  friends.  I  will  answer  for  him  as  I  would 
for  myself;  and  we  will  swear  upon  our  honor  not  to 
reveal  the  secret  we  ask  you  for,  without  your  per- 
mission." 

"Truly?" 

"  You  have  our  word  of  honor,"  replied  both  the 
baron  and  Pascal  in  a  breath. 

After  casting  a  half-frightened  glance  around  him, 
the  worthy  Turk  seemed  to  gather  courage.  But  no  ! 
He  deliberated  some  time,  and  then  rejoined  :  "  Really, 
I'm  not  sufficiently  convinced  of  the  accuracy  of  my 
suspicions  to  incur  the  risk  of  accusing  a  man  who 
belongs  in  the  very  best  society;  a  man  who  is  very 
rich  and  very  highly  respected,  and  who  would  tolerate 
no  imputations  upon  his  character." 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE    271 

It  was  plain  that  he  would  not  speak.  The  baron 
shrugged  his  shoulders,  but  Pascal  stepped  bravely  for- 
ward. "  Then  I  will  tell  you,  prince,"  he  said,  "  the 
name  that  you  are  determined  to  hide  from  us." 

"  Oh  !  " 

"  But  you  must  allow  me  to  remark  that  the  baron 
and  myself  retract  the  promise  we  made  you  just  now." 

"  Naturally." 

"  Then,  your  defrauder  is  the  Marquis  de  Valorsay  !  " 

If  Kami-Bey  had  seen  an  emissary  of  his  sovereign 
enter  the  room  carrying  the  fatal  bow-string  he  would 
not  have  seemed  more  terror-stricken.  He  sprang 
nervously  on  to  his  short,  fat  legs,  his  eyes  wildly  dilat- 
ing and  his  hands  fluttering  despairingly.  '*  Don't 
speak  so  loud  !  don't  speak  so  loud  !  "  he  exclaimed, 
imploringly. 

As  he  did  not  even  attempt  to  deny  it,  the  truth  of 
the  assertion  might  be  taken  for  granted.  But  Pascal 
was  not  content  with  this.  "  Now  that  we  know  the 
fact,  I  hope.  Prince,  that  you  will  be  sufficiently  oblig- 
ing to  tell  us  how  it  all  happened,"  he  remarked. 

Poor  Kami.  He  was  in  despair.  "  Alas  !  "  he  re- 
plied, reluctantly,  "  nothing  could  be  more  simple.  I 
wanted  to  set  up  a  racing  stable.  Not  that  I  care  mucK 
for  sport.  I  can  scarcely  distinguish  a  horse  from  a 
mule — but  morning  and  evening,  everybody  says  to  me  : 
*  Prince,  a  man  like  you  ought  to  make  your  name  cele- 
brated on  the  turf.'  Besides  I  never  open  a  paper  with- 
out reading  :  '  Such  a  man  ought  to  be  a  patron  of  the 
noblest  of  sports.'  At  last,  I  said  to  myself  :  '  Yes,  they 
are  right.  I  ought  to  take  part  in  racing.'  So  I  began 
to  look  about  for  some  horses.  I  had  purchased  sev- 
eral, when  the  Marquis  de  Valorsay  proposed  to  sell 
me  some  of  his,  some  that  were  very  well  known,  and 


272    BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

that  had — so  he  assured  me — won  at  least  ten  times 
the  amount  they  had  cost  him.  I  accepted  his  offer,  and 
visited  his  stables,  where  I  selected  seven  of  his  best 
horses  and  paid  for  them  ;  and  I  paid  a  good  round 
price,  I  assure  you.  Now  comes  the  knavery.  He  has 
not  given  me  the  horses  I  purchased.  The  real  ani- 
mals, the  valuable  ones — have  been  sold  in  England 
under  false  names,  and  although  the  horses  sent  to  me 
may  be  like  the  others  in  appearance,  they  are  really 
only  common  animals,  w'anting  both  in  blood  and 
speed." 

Pascal  and  the  baron  exchanged  astonished  glances. 
It  must  be  confessed  that  frauds  of  every  description 
are  common  enough  in  the  racing  world,  and  a  great 
deal  of  dishonest  manœuvring  results  from  greed  for 
gain  united  with  the  fever  of  gambling.  But  never 
before  had  any  one  been  accused  of  such  an  audacious 
and  impudent  piece  of  rascality  as  that  which  Kami- 
Bey  imputed  to  Valorsay. 

"  How  did  you  fail  to  discover  this  at  the  outset, 
prince?"  inquired  Pascal  in  an  incredulous  tone. 

"  Because  my  time  was  so  much  occupied." 

"  But  your  servants  ?  " 

"  Ah  !  that's  another  thing.  I  shouldn't  be  at  all  sur- 
prised if  it  were  proved  that  the  man  who  has  charge 
of  my  stables  had  been  bribed  by  the  marquis." 

"  Then,  how  were  your  suspicions  aroused  ?  " 

"  It  was  only  by  the  merest  chance.  A  jockey  whom 
I  thought  of  employing  had  often  ridden  one  of  the 
anim.als  which  I  fancied  myself  the  owner  of.  Nat- 
urally, I  showed  him  the  horse,  but  he  had  no  sooner 
set  eyes  on  it  than  he  exclaimed  :  *  That  the  horse  ! 
Never  !  You've  been  cheated,  prince  !  '  Then  we  ex- 
amined the  others,  and  the  fraud  became  apparent." 


HE  SI>KAXG  NERVOUSLY  OX  TO  HIS  SHORT,  FAT  LEGS,  HIS  EYES  WILDLY 
DILATING.  .  .  .  "don't  SPEAK  SO  LOUd!"  HE  EXCLAIMED,  IM- 
PLORINGLY 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE     273 

Knowing  Kami's  character  better  than  Pascal,  the 
baron  had  good  reason  to  distrust  the  accuracy  of 
these  statements.  For  the  Turkish  milhonaire's  superb 
contempt  of  money  was  only  affected.  Vanity  alone 
unloosed  his  purse-strings.  He  was  quite  capable  of 
presenting  Jenny  Fancy  with  a  necklace  costing  five- 
and-twenty  thousand  francs  for  the  sake  of  seeing  his 
generosity  recorded  in  the  Gaulois  or  the  Figaro  the 
next  day;  but  he  would  refuse  to  give  a  trifle  to  the 
mother  of  a  starving  family.  Besides,  it  was  his  ambi- 
tion to  be  regarded  as  the  most  swindled  man  in 
Europe.  But  though  he  was  shamefully  imposed 
upon,  it  was  not  voluntarily — for  there  was  a  strong 
dose  of  Arabian  avarice  and  distrust  in  his  com- 
position. 

"  Frankly,  prince,"  said  the  baron,  "  your  story 
sounds  like  one  of  the  wild  legends  of  your  native  land. 
Valorsay  is  certainly  no  fool.  How  is  it  possible  that 
he  could  have  been  guilty  of  so  gross  a  fraud — a  fraud 
which  might  be,  which  could  not  fail  to  be  discovered 
in  twenty-four  hours — and  which,  once  proven,  would 
dishonor  him  forever?" 

"  Before  perpetrating  such  a  piece  of  deception  upon 
any  one  else,  he  would  have  thought  twice  ;  but  upon 
me  it's  different.  Isn't  it  an  established  fact  that  a 
person  incurs  no  risk  in  robbing  Kami-Bey?" 

"  Had  I  been  in  your  place  I  should  have  quietly  in- 
stituted an  investigation." 

"What  good  would  that  have  done?  Besides,  the 
sale  was  only  conditional,  and  took  place  under  the  seal 
of  secrecy.  The  marquis  reserved  the  right  to  take  his 
horses  back  on  payment  of  a  stipulated  sum,  and  the 
time  he  was  to  have  for  consideration  only  expired  on 
the  day  before  yesterday." 


I      274    BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

"  Eh!  why  didn't  you  tell  us  that  at  first?  "  cried  the 
baron. 

The  marquis's  rascality  was  now  easily  explained. 
Finding  himself  in  a  desperate  strait,  and  feeling  that 
his  salvation  was  certain  if  he  could  only  gain  a  little 
time,  he  had  yielded  to  temptation,  saying  to  himself, 
like  unfaithful  cashiers  when  they  first  appropriate  their 
employers'  money  :  "  I  will  pay  it  back,  and  no  one 
will  ever  know  it  !  "  However,  when  the  day  of  set- 
tlement came  he  had  found  himself  in  as  deplorable  a 
plight  as  on  the  day  of  the  robbery,  and  he  had  been 
compelled  to  yield  to  the  force  of  circumstances. 

"And  what  do  you  intend  to  do,  prince?"  asked 
Pascal. 

"  Ah  !  I  am  still  in  doubt.  I  have  compelled  the  mar- 
quis to  give  me  the  papers  in  which  the  exploits  of 
these  horses  are  recorded.  These  statements  will  be  of 
service  in  case  of  a  law-suit.  But  shall  I  or  shall  I 
not  enter  a  complaint  against  him?  If  it  were  a  mere 
question  of  money  I  should  let  the  matter  drop  ;  but  he 
has  defrauded  and  deceived  me  so  outrageously  that 
it  annoys  me.  On  the  other  hand,  to  confess  that  he 
has  cheated  me  in  this  fashion  would  cover  me  with 
ridicule.  Besides,  the  man  is  a  dangerous  enemy.  And 
what  would  become  of  me  if  I  happened  to  side  against 
him?  I  should  be  compelled  to  leave  Paris.  Ah!  Pd 
give  ten  thousand  francs  to  any  one  who'd  settle  this 
cursed  affair  for  me  !  " 

His  perplexity  was  so  great,  and  his  anger  so  in- 
tense, for  that  once  he  tore  off  his  eternal  fez  and  flung 
it  on  to  the  table,  swearing  like  a  drayman.  However, 
controlling  himself  at  last,  he  exclaimed  in  a  tone  of 
assumed  indifference  :  "  No  matter,  there's  been  enough 
said  on  this  subject  for  one  day — I'm  here  to  play — 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE     275 

so  let  us  begin,  baron.  For  we  are  wasting  precious 
time,  as  you  so  often  remark." 

Pascal  had  nothing  more  to  learn  ;  so  he  shook  hands 
with  the  baron,  made  an  appointment  with  him  for  the 
same  evening,  and  went  away. 

It  was  only  half-past  two;  a  good  hour  and  a  half 
remained  at  his  disposal.  "  I  will  profit  by  this  oppor- 
tunity to  eat  something,"  he  thought;  a  sudden  faint- 
ness  reminding  him  that  he  had  taken  nothing  but  a 
cup  of  chocolate  that  day.  Thereupon  perceiving  a 
café  near  by,  he  entered  it,  ordered  breakfast,  and  lin- 
gered there  until  it  was  time  to  return  to  the  Alarquis 
de  Valorsay's.  He  would  have  gone  there  before  the 
appointed  time  if  he  had  merely  listened  to  the  prompt- 
ings of  his  impatience,  so  thoroughly  was  he  persuaded 
that  this  second  interview  would  be  decisive.  But  pru- 
dence advised  him  not  to  expose  himself  to  the  danger 
of  an  encounter  with  Madame  Léon  and  Dr.  Jodon. 

"  Well  !  Monsieur  Mauméjan,"  cried  the  marquis, 
as  soon  as  Pascal  made  his  appearance.  He  had  been 
counting  the  seconds  with  intense  anxiety,  as  his  tone 
of  voice  unmistakably  revealed. 

In  reply  Pascal  gravely  drew  from  his  pocket 
twenty-four  bank-notes,  of  a  thousand  francs  each,  and 
he  placed  them  upon  the  table,  saying  :  "  Here  is  the 
amount,  Monsieur  le  Marquis.  I  have,  of  course,  de- 
ducted my  commission.  Now,  if  you  will  write  and 
sign  a  note  for  twenty-five  thousand  francs,  payable  to 
my  order  two  months  hence,  our  business  for  to-day 
will  be  concluded." 

M.  de  Valorsay's  hand  trembled  nervously  as  he 
penned  the  desired  note,  for,  until  the  very  last  moment, 
he  had  doubted  the  promises  of  this  unknown  agent 
who  had  made  his  appearance  so  opportunely.     Then, 


276     BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

when  the  document  was  signed,  he  carelessly  slipped 
the  money  into  a  drawer  and  exclaimed:  "So  here's 
the  needful  to  pay  my  debt  of  honor;  but  my  embar- 
rassment is  none  the  less  great.  These  twenty-four 
thousand  francs  won't  take  the  place  of  the  hundred 
thousand  which  Baron  Trigault  promised  me." 

And,  as  Pascal  made  no  reply,  the  marquis  began  a 
desultory  tramp  up  and  down  the  smoking-room.  He 
was  very  pale,  his  brows  were  knit  ;  he  looked  like  a 
man  who  was  meditating  a  decisive  step,  and  who  was 
calculating  the  consequences.  But  having  no  time  to 
waste  in  hesitation,  he  soon  paused  in  front  of  Pascal, 
and  exclaimed  :  "  Since  you  have  just  lent  me  twenty- 
four  thousand  francs,  why  won't  you  lend  me  the 
rest?" 

But  Pascal  shook  his  head.  "  One  risks  nothing  by 
advancing  twenty-five  thousand  francs  to  a  person  in 
your  position.  Monsieur  le  Marquis.  Whatever  hap- 
pens, such  a  sum  as  that  can  always  be  gathered  from 
the  wreck.  But  double  or  triple  the  amount  !  The 
deuce  !  that  requires  reflection,  and  I  must  understand 
the  situation  thoroughly." 

"  And  if  I  told  you  that  I  am — almost  ruined,  what 
would  you  reply  ?  " 

"  I  shouldn't  be  so  very  much  surprised." 

M.  de  Valorsay  had  now  gone  too  far  to  draw  back. 
"  Ah,  well  !  "  he  resumed,  "  the  truth  is  this — my  af- 
fairs are  terribly  involved." 

"  The  devil  !    You  should  have  told  me  that  sooner." 

"  Wait  ;  I  am  about  to  retrieve  my  fortune — to  make 
it  even  larger  than  it  has  ever  been.  I  am  on  the  point 
of  contracting  a  marriage  which  will  make  me  one  of 
the  richest  men  in  Paris  ;  but  I  must  have  a  little  time 
to  bring  the  afifair  to  a  successful  termination,  and  I 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE    277, 

need  money — and  my  creditors  are  pressing  me  un- 
mercifully. You  told  me  this  morning  that  you  once 
assisted  a  man  who  was  in  a  similar  position.  Will  you 
help  me?  You  can  set  your  own  price  on  your 
services." 

More  easily  overcome  by  joy  than  by  sorrow,  Pascal 
almost  betrayed  himself.  He  had  attained  his  object. 
Still,  he  succeeded  in  conquering  his  emotion,  and  it 
was  in  a  perfectly  calm  voice  that  he  replied  :  "  I  can 
promise  nothing  until  I  understand  the  situation, 
Monsieur  le  Marquis.  Will  you  explain  it  to  me?  I 
am  listening." 


XIV. 

It  was  nearly  midnight  when  M.  Wilkie  left  the  Hôtel 
d'Argelès  after  the  terrible  scene  in  which  he  had  re- 
vealed his  true  character.  On  seeing  him  pass  out  with 
haggard  eyes,  colorless  lips,  and  disordered  clothing, 
the  servants  gathered  in  the  vestibule  took  him  at  first 
for  another  of  those  ruined  gamblers  who  not  unfre- 
quently  left  the  house  with  despair  in  their  hearts. 

"  Another  fellow  who's  had  bad  luck  !  "  they  re- 
marked sneeringly  to  one  another. 

"  No  doubt  about  that.  He  is  pretty  effectually 
used  up,  judging  from  appearances,"  one  of  them  re- 
marked. 

It  was  not  until  some  moments  later  that  they  learned 
a  portion  of  the  truth  through  the  servants  who  had 
been  on  duty  upstairs,  and  who  now  ran  down  in  great 
terror,  crying  that  Madame  d'Argelès  was  dying,  and 
that  a  physician  must  be  summoned  at  once. 

M.  Wilkie  was  already  far  away,  hastening  up  the 


278    BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

boulevard  with  an  agile  step.  Any  one  else  would  have 
been  overcome  with  shame  and  sorrow — would  have 
been  frightened  by  the  thought  of  what  he  had  done, 
and  have  striven  to  find  some  way  to  conceal  his  dis- 
grace ;  but  he,  not  in  the  least.  In  this  frightful  crisis, 
he  was  only  conscious  of  one  fact — that  just  as  he 
raised  his  hand  to  strike  Madame  Lia  d'Argelès,  his 
mother,  a  big,  burly  individual  had  burst  into  the  room, 
like  a  bombshell,  caught  him  by  the  throat,  forced  him 
upon  his  knees,  and  compelled  him  to  ask  the  lady's 
pardon.  He,  Wilkie,  to  be  humiliated  in  this  style! 
He  would  never  endure  that.  This  was  an  affront  he 
could  not  swallow,  one  of  those  insults  that  cry  out  for 
vengeance  and  for  blood.  "  Ah  !  the  great  brute  shall 
pay  for  it,"  he  repeated,  again  and  again,  grinding  his 
teeth.  And  if  he  hastened  up  the  boulevard,  it  was 
only  because  he  hoped  to  meet  his  two  chosen  friends, 
M.  Costard  and  the  Viscount  de  Serpillon,  the  co- 
proprietors  of  Pompier  de  Nanterre. 

For  he  intended  to  place  his  outraged  honor  in  their 
care.  They  should  be  his  seconds,  and  present  his  de- 
mand for  satisfaction  to  the  man  who  had  insulted  him. 
A  duel  was  the  only  thing  that  could  appease  his  furi- 
ous anger  and  heal  his  wounded  pride.  And  a  great 
scandal,  which  he  would  be  the  hero  of,  was  not  without 
a  certain  charm  for  him.  What  a  glorious  chance  to 
win  notoriety  at  an  epoch  when  newspapers  have  be- 
come public  laundries,  in  which  every  one  washes  his 
soiled  linen  and  dries  it  in  the  glare  of  publicity  !  He 
saw  his  already  remarkable  reputation  enhanced  by  the 
interest  that  always  attaches  to  people  who  are  talked 
about,  and  he  could  hear  in  advance  the  flattering 
whisper  which  would  greet  his  appearance  everywhere  : 
"  You  see  that  young  man  ? — he  is  the  hero  of  that 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE     279 

famous  adventure,"  etc.  Moreover,  he  was  already 
twisting  and  turning  the  terms  of  the  notice  which  his 
seconds  must  have  inserted  in  the  Figaro,  hesitating 
between  two  or  three  equally  startling  beginnings: 
"  Another  famous  duel,"  or  "  Yesterday,  after  a  scan- 
dalous scene,  an  encounter,"  etc.,  etc. 

Unfortunately,  he  did  not  meet  either  M.  Costard  or 
the  Viscount  de  Serpillon.  Strange  to  say,  they  were 
not  in  any  of  the  cafés,  where  the  flower  of  French 
chivalry  usually  congregates,  in  the  company  of  golden- 
haired  young  women,  from  nine  in  the  evening  until 
one  o'clock  in  the  morning.  This  disappointment 
grieved  M.  Wilkie  sorely,  although  he  derived  some 
benefit  from  it,  for  his  disordered  attire  attracted  atten- 
tion at  each  place  he  entered,  and  acquaintances  eagerly 
inquired  :  "  Where  have  you  come  from,  and  what  has 
happened  to  you  ?  "  Whereupon  he  replied  with  an  air 
of  profound  secrecy  :  "  Pray  don't  speak  of  it.  A 
shocking  afifair  !  If  it  were  noised  abroad  I  should  be 
inconsolable." 

At  last  the  cafés  began  to  close,  and  promenaders  be- 
came rare.  M.  Wilkie,  much  to  his  regret,  was  obliged 
to  go  home.  When  he  had  locked  his  door  and  donned 
his  dressing-gown,  he  sat  down  to  think  over  the  events 
of  the  day,  and  collect  his  scattered  wits.  What  most 
troubled  and  disquieted  him  was  not  the  condition  in 
which  he  had  left  Madame  Lia  d'Argelès,  his  mother, 
who  was,  perhaps,  dying,  through  his  fault  !  It  was 
not  the  terrible  sacrifice  that  this  poor  woman  had  made 
for  him  in  a  transport  of  maternal  love  !  It  was  not 
the  thought  of  the  source  from  which  the  money  he  had 
squandered  for  so  many  years  had  been  derived.  No, 
M.  Wilkie  was  quite  above  such  paltry  considerations — 
good  enough  for  commonplace  and  antiquated  people. 


280    BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

"  He  was  too  clever  for  that.  Ah  !  yes.  He  had  a 
stronger  stomach,  and  was  up  with  the  times  !  "  If 
he  were  sorely  vexed  in  spirit  it  was  because  he  thought 
that  the  immense  property  which  he  had  believed  his 
own  had  slipped,  perhaps  for  ever,  from  his  grasp. 
For  rising  threateningly  between  the  Chalusse  millions 
and  himself,  he  pictured  the  form  of  his  father,  this 
man  whom  he  did  not  know,  but  whose  very  name  had 
made  Madame  d'Argelès  shudder. 

M.  Wilkie  was  seized  with  terror  when  he  looked  his 
actual  situation  in  the  face.  What  was  to  become  of 
him?  He  was  certain  that  Madame  d'Argelès  would 
not  give  him  another  sou.  She  could  not — he  recog- 
nized that  fact.  His  intelligence  was  equal  to  that. 
On  the  other  hand,  if  he  ever  obtained  anything  from 
the  count's  estate,  which  was  more  than  doubtful, 
would  he  not  be  obliged  to  wait  a  long  time  for  it? 
Yes,  in  all  probability  such  would  be  the  case.  Then 
how  should  he  live,  how  would  he  be  able  to  obtain 
food  in  the  meantime?  His  despair  was  so  poignant 
that  tears  came  to  his  eyes  ;  and  he  bitterly  deplored  the 
step  he  had  taken.  Yes,  he  actually  sighed  for  the 
past;  he  longed  to  live  over  again  the  very  years  in 
which  he  had  so  often  complained  of  his  destiny.  Then, 
though  not  a  millionaire  by  any  means,  he  at  least 
wanted  for  nothing.  Every  quarter-day  a  very  consid- 
erable allowance  was  promptly  paid  him,  and,  in  great 
emergencies,  he  could  apply  to  Mr.  Patterson,  who  al- 
w^ays  sent  a  favorable  answer  if  not  drawn  upon  too 
heavily.  Yes,  he  sighed  for  that  time  !  Ah  !  if  he  had 
only  then  realized  how  fortunate  he  was  !  Had  he  not 
been  one  of  the  most  opulent  members  of  the  society 
in  which  he  moved?  Had  he  not  been  flattered  and 
admired  more  than  any  of  his  companions?     Had  he 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE    281 

not  found  the  most  exquisite  happiness  in  his  part  own- 
ership of  Pompier  de  Nanterre  ! 

Now,  what  remained?  Nothing,  save  anxiety  con- 
cerning the  future,  and  all  sorts  of  uncertainties  and 
terrors  !  What  a  mistake  !  What  a  blunder  he  had 
made  !  Ah  !  if  he  could  only  begin  again.  He  sincerely 
wished  that  the  great  adversary  of  mankind  had  the 
Viscount  de  Coralth  in  his  clutches.  For,  in  his  de- 
spair, it  was  the  once  dear  viscount  that  he  blamed, 
accused,  and  cursed. 

He  was  in  this  ungrateful  frame  of  mind  when  a 
loud,  almost  savage,  ring  came  at  his  door.  As  his 
servant  slept  in  an  attic  upstairs,  Wilkie  was  quite  alone 
in  his  rooms,  so  he  took  the  lamp  and  went  to  open 
the  door  himself.  At  this  hour  of  the  night,  the  visitor 
could  only  be  M.  Costard  or  the  Viscount  de  Serpillon, 
or  perhaps  both  of  them.  "  They  have  heard  that  I 
was  looking  for  them,  and  so  they  have  hastened  here," 
he  thought. 

But  he  was  mistaken.  The  visitor  was  neither  of 
these  gentlemen,  but  M.  Ferdinand  de  Coralth  in  per- 
son. Prudence  had  compelled  the  viscount  to  leave 
Madame  d'Argelès's  card-party  one  of  the  last,  but  as 
soon  as  he  was  out  of  the  house  he  had  rushed  to  the 
Marquis  de  Valorsay's  to  hold  a  conference  with  him, 
far  from  suspecting  that  he  was  followed,  and  that  an 
auxiliary  of  Pascal  Ferailleur  and  Mademoiselle 
Marguerite  was  even  then  waiting  for  him  below — 
an  enemy  as  formidable  as  he  was  humble — Victor 
Chupin. 

At  sight  of  the  man  who  had  so  long  been  his  model 
— the  friend  who  had  advised  what  he  styled  his  blun- 
der— Wilkie  was  so  surprised  that  he  almost  dropped 
his  lamp.     Then  as  his  wrath  kindled,  "  Ah  !  so  it's 


282     BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

you  !  "  he  exclaimed,  angrily.  "  You  come  at  a  good 
time  !  " 

But  M.  de  Coralth  was  too  much  exasperated  to 
notice  Wilkie's  strange  greeting.  Seizing  him  roughly 
by  the  arm,  and  closing  the  door  with  a  kick,  he 
dragged  Wilkie  back  into  the  little  drawing-room, 
"  Yes,  it's  I,"  he  said,  curtly.  "  It's  I — come  to  inquire 
if  you  have  gone  mad?  " 

"  Viscount  !  " 

"  I  can  find  no  other  explanation  of  your  conduct  ! 
What!  You  choose  Madame  d'Argelès's  reception 
day,  and  an  hour  when  there  are  fifty  guests  in  her 
drawing-room  to  present  yourself  !  " 

"  Ah,  well  !  it  wasn't  from  choice.  I  had  been  there 
twice  before,  and  had  the  doors  shut  in  my  face." 

"  You  ought  to  have  gone  back  ten  times,  a  hundred 
times,  a  thousand  times,  rather  than  have  accomplished 
such  an  idiotic  prank  as  this." 

"  Excuse  me." 

"What  did  I  recommend?  Prudence,  calmness  and 
moderation,  persuasive  gentleness,  sentiments  of  the 
loftiest  nature,  tenderness,  a  shower  of  tears " 

"  Possibly,  but " 

"  But  instead  of  that,  you  fall  upon  this  woman  like 
a  thunderbolt,  and  set  the  whole  household  in  the  wild- 
est commotion.  What  could  you  be  thinking  of,  to 
make  such  an  absurd  and  frightful  scene?  For  you 
howled  and  shrieked  like  a  street  hawker,  and  we  could 
hear  you  in  the  drawing-room.  If  all  is  not  irretriev- 
ably lost,  there  must  be  a  special  Providence  for  the 
benefit  of  fools  !  " 

In  his  dismay,  Wilkie  endeavored  to  falter  some  ex- 
cuses, but  he  was  only  able  to  begin  a  few  sentences 
which  died  away,  uncompleted  in  his  throat.    The  vio- 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE    283 

lence  shown  by  M.  de  Coralth,  who  was  usually  as  cold 
and  as  polished  as  marble,  quieted  his  own  wrath. 
Still  toward  the  last  he  felt  disposed  to  rebel  against 
the  insults  that  were  being  heaped  upon  him.  "  Do 
you  know,  viscount,  that  I  begin  to  think  this  very 
strange,"  he  exclaimed.  "  If  any  one  else  had  led  me 
into  such  a  scrape,  I  should  have  called  him  to  account 
in  double-quick  time." 

)  M.  de  Coralth  shrugged  his  shoulders  with  an  air 
of  contempt,  and  threateningly  replied  :  "  Understand, 
once  for  all,  that  you  had  better  not  attempt  to  bully 
me!  Now,  tell  me  what  passed  between  your  mother 
and  yourself?  " 

"  First  I  should  like ■" 

"  Dash  it  all  !  Do  you  suppose  that  I  intend  to  re- 
main here  all  night?  Tell  me  what  occurred,  and  be 
quick  about  it.     And  try  to  speak  the  truth." 

It  was  one  of  M.  Wilkie's  greatest  boasts  that  he 
had  an  indomitable  will — an  iron  nature.  But  the  vis- 
count exercised  powerful  influence  over  him,  and,  to 
tell  the  truth,  inspired  him  with  a  form  of  emotion 
which  was  nearly  akin  to  fear.  Moreover,  a  glimmer 
of  reason  had  at  last  penetrated  his  befogged  brain  : 
he  saw  that  M.  de  Coralth  was  right — that  he  had 
acted  like  a  fool,  and  that,  if  he  hoped  to  escape  from 
the  dangers  that  threatened  him,  he  must  take  the  ad- 
vice of  more  experienced  men  than  himself.  So,  ceas- 
ing his  recriminations,  he  began  to  describe  what  he 
styled  his  explanation  with  Madame  d'Argelès.  All 
went  well  at  first;  for  he  dared  not  misrepresent  the 
facts. 

But  when  he  came  to  the  intervention  of  the  man 
who  had  prevented  him  from  striking  his  mother,  he 
turned  crimson,  and  rage  again  filled  his  heart.     "  I'm 


284     BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

sorry  I  let  myself  get  into  such  a  mess  !  "  he  exclaimed. 
"  You  should  have  seen  my  condition.  My  shirt-collar 
was  torn,  and  my  cravat  hung  in  tatters.  He  was  much 
stronger  than  I — the  contemptible  scoundrel  ! — ah  !  if  it 

hadn't  been  for  that But  I  shall  have  my  revenge. 

Yes,  he  shall  learn  that  he  can't  trample  a  man  under 
foot  with  impunity.  To-morrow  two  of  my  friends 
will  call  upon  him;  and  if  he  refuses  to  apologize  or 
to  give  me  satisfaction,  I'll  cane  him." 

It  was  evident  enough  that  M.  de  Coralth  had  to  ex- 
ercise considerable  constraint  to  listen  to  these  fine 
projects.  "  I  must  warn  you  that  you  ought  to  speak 
in  other  terms  of  an  honorable  and  honored  gentleman," 
he  interrupted,  at  last. 

"  Eh  !  what  !    You  know  him  then  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Madame  d'Argelès's  defender  is  Baron 
Trigault." 

M.  Wilkie's  heart  bounded  with  joy,  as  he  heard  this 
name.  "  Ah  !  this  is  capital  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  What  ! 
So  it  was  Baron  Trigault — the  noted  gambler — who 
owns  such  a  magnificent  house  in  the  Rue  de  la  Ville 
l'Evéque,  the  husband  of  that  extremely  stylish  lady, 
that  notorious  cocotte " 

The  viscount  sprang  from  his  chair,  and  interrupting 
M.  Wilkie  :  "  I  advise  you,  for  the  sake  of  your  own 
safety,"  he  said,  measuring  his  words  to  give  them 
greater  weight,  "  never  to  mention  the  Baroness 
Trigault's  name  except  in  terms  of  the  most  profound 
respect." 

There  was  no  misunderstanding  M.  de  Coralth's  tone, 
and  his  glance  said  plainly  that  he  would  not  allow 
much  time  to  pass  before  putting  his  threat  into  execu- 
tion. Having  always  lived  in  a  lower  circle  to  that 
in  which  the  baroness  sparkled  with  such  lively  bril- 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE    285 

liancy,  M.  Wilkie  was  ignorant  of  the  reasons  that 
induced  his  distinguished  friend  to  defend  her  so 
warmly  ;  but  he  did  understand  that  it  would  be  highly 
imprudent  to  insist,  or  even  to  discuss  the  matter.  So, 
in  his  most  persuasive  manner,  he  resumed  :  "  Let  us 
say  no  more  about  the  wife,  but  give  our  attention  to 
the  husband.  So  it  was  the  baron  who  insulted  me  ! 
A  duel  with  him — what  good  luck  !  Well  !  he  may 
sleep  in  peace  to-night,  but  as  soon  as  he  is  up  in  the 
morning  he  will  find  Costard  and  Serpillon  on  hand. 
Serpillon  has  not  an  equal  as  a  second.  First,  he  knows 
the  best  places  for  a  meeting;  then  he  lends  the  com- 
batants weapons  when  they  have  none;  he  procures  a 
physician;  and  he  is  on  excellent  terms  with  the  jour- 
nalists, who  publish  reports  of  these  encounters." 

The  viscount  had  never  had  a  very  exalted  opinion 
of  Wilkie's  intelligence,  but  now  he  was  amazed  to  see 
how  greatly  he  had  overestimated  it.  "  Enough  of 
such  foolishness,"  he  interrupted,  curtly.  "  This  duel 
will  never  take  place." 

"  I  should  like  to  know  who  will  prevent  it?  " 

"  I  will,  if  you  persist  in  such  an  absurd  idea.  You 
ought  to  have  sense  enough  to  know  that  the  baron 
would  kick  Serpillon  out  of  the  house,  and  that  you 
would  only  cover  yourself  with  ridicule.  So,  between 
your  duel  and  my  help  make  your  choice,  and  quickly." 

The  prospect  of  sending  his  seconds  to  demand  satis- 
faction from  Baron  Trigault  was  certainly  a  very  at- 
tractive one.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  Wilkie  could 
not  afford  to  dispense  with  M.  de  Coralth's  services. 
"  But  the  baron  has  insulted  me,"  he  urged. 

"  Well,  you  can  demand  satisfaction  when  you  ob- 
tain possession  of  your  property;  but  the  least  scandal 
now  would  spoil  your  last  chances." 


286    BARON   TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

"  I  will  abandon  the  project,  then,"  sighed  Wilkie, 
despondently  ;  "  but  pray  advise  me.  What  do  you 
think  of  my  situation  ?  " 

M.  de  Coralth  seemed  to  consider  a  moment,  and  then 
gravely  replied:  "  I  think  that,  loiassistcd,  you  have  no 
chance  whatever.  You  have  no  standing,  no  influential 
connections,  no  position — you  are  not  even  a  French- 
man." 

"  Alas  !  that  is  precisely  what  I  have  said  to  myself." 

"  Still,  I  am  convinced  that  with  some  assistance  you 
might  overcome  your  mother's  resistance,  and  even 
your  father's  pretentions." 

"Yes,  but  where  could  I  find  protectors?" 

The  viscount's  gravity  seemed  to  increase.  "  Listen 
to  me,"  said  he  ;  "I  will  do  for  you  what  I  would  not 
do  for  any  one  else.  I  will  endeavor  to  interest  in  your 
cause  one  of  my  friends,  who  is  all  powerful  by  reason 
of  his  name,  his  fortune,  and  his  connections — the  Mar- 
quis de  Valorsay,  in  fact." 

"The  one  who  is  so  well  known  upon  the  turf?" 

"  The  same." 

"  And  you  will  introduce  me  to  him  ?  " 

"  Yes.  Be  ready  to-morrow  at  eleven  o'clock,  and  I 
W'ill  call  for  you  and  take  you  to  his  house.  If  he  in- 
terests himself  in  your  cause,  it  is  as  good  as  gained." 
And  as  his  companion  overwhelmed  him  with  thanks, 
he  rose,  and  said  :  "  I  must  go  now.  No  more  foolish- 
ness, and  be  ready  to-morrow  at  the  appointed  time." 

Thanks  to  the  surprising  mutability  of  temper  which 
was  the  most  striking  characteristic  of  his  nature,  M. 
Wilkie  w^as  already  consoled  for  his  blunder. 

He  had  received  M.  de  Coralth  as  an  enemy;  but  he 
now  escorted  him  to  the  door  with  every  obsequious 
attention — in  fact,  just  as  if  he  looked  upon  him  as  his 


BARON   TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE    287 

preserver.  A  word  which  the  viscount  had  dropped 
during  the  conversation  had  considerably  helped  to 
bring  about  this  sudden  revulsion  of  feelings.  "  You 
cannot  fail  to  understand  that  if  the  Marquis  de  Val- 
orsay  espouses  your  cause,  you  will  want  for  nothing. 
And  if  a  lawsuit  is  unavoidable,  he  will  be  perfectly 
willing  to  advance  the  necessary  funds."  How  could 
M.  Wilkie  lack  confidence  after  that?  The  brightest 
hopes,  the  most  ecstatic  visions  had  succeeded  the 
gloomy  forebodings  of  a  few  hours  before.  The  mere 
thought  of  being  presented  to  M.  de  Valorsay,  a  noble- 
man celebrated  for  his  adventures,  his  horses,  and  his 
fortune,  more  than  sufficed  to  make  him  forget  his 
troubles.  What  rapture  to  become  that  illustrious 
nobleman's  acquaintance,  perhaps  his  friend  !  To  move 
in  the  same  orbit  as  this  star  of  the  first  magnitude 
which  would  inevitably  cast  some  of  its  lustre  upon 
him  !  Now  he  would  be  a  somebody  in  the  world.  He 
felt  that  he  had  grown  a  head  taller,  and  Heaven  only 
knows  with  what  disdain  poor  Costard  and  Serpillon 
would  have  been  received  had  they  chanced  to  present 
themselves  at  that  moment. 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  Wilkie  dressed  with  infinite 
care  on  the  following  morning,  no  doubt  in  the  hope 
of  making  a  conquest  of  the  marquis  at  first  sight. 
He  tried  his  best  to  solve  the  problem  of  appearing  at 
the  same  time  most  recherché  but  at  ease,  excessively 
elegant  and  yet  unostentatious  ;  and  he  devoted  himself 
to  the  task  so  unreservedly  that  he  lost  all  conception 
of  the  flight  of  time  :  so  that  on  seeing  M.  de  Coralth 
enter  his  rooms,  he  exclaimed  in  unfeigned  astonish- 
ment :  "  You  here  already  ?  " 

It  seemed  to  him  that  barely  five  minutes  had  elapsed 
since  he  took  his  place  before  the  looking-glass  to  study 


288     BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

attitudes  and  gestures,  with  a  new  and  elegant  mode  of 
bowing  and  sitting  down,  like  an  actor  practising  the 
effects  which  are  to  win  him  applause. 

"  Why  do  you  say  '  already?  '  "  replied  the  viscount. 
"  I  am  a  quarter  of  an  hour  behind  time.  Are  you 
not  ready?  " 

"  Yes,  certainly." 

"  Let  us  start  at  once,  then  ;  my  brougham  is  out- 
side." 

The  drive  was  a  silent  one.  M.  Ferdinand  de 
Coralth,  whose  smooth  white  skin  would  ordinarily 
have  excited  the  envy  of  a  young  girl,  did  not  look  like 
himself.  His  face  was  swollen  and  covered  with 
blotches,  and  there  were  dark  blue  circles  round  his 
eyes.  He  seemed,  moreover,  to  be  in  a  most  savage 
humor.  "  He  hasn't  had  sleep  enough,"  thought  M. 
Wilkie,  with  his  usual  discernment  ;  "  he  hasn't  a 
bronze  constitution  like  myself." 

M.  Wilkie  himself  was  insensible  to  fatigue,  and 
although  he  had  not  closed  his  eyes  the  previous  night, 
he  only  felt  that  nervous  trepidation  which  invariably 
attacks  debutants,  and  makes  the  throat  so  marvellously 
dry.  For  the  first,  and  probably  the  last  time  in  his 
life,  M.  Wilkie  distrusted  his  own  powers,  and  feared 
that  he  was  not  "  quite  up  to  the  mark,"  as  he  ele- 
gantly expressed  it. 

The  sight  of  the  Marquis  de  Valorsay's  handsome 
mansion  was  not  likely  to  restore  his  assurance.  When 
he  entered  the  courtyard,  where  the  master's  mail- 
phaeton  stood  in  waiting;  when  through  the  open  doors 
of  the  handsome  stables  he  espied  the  many  valuable 
horses  neighing  in  their  stalls,  and  the  numerous  car- 
riages shrouded  in  linen  covers  ;  when  he  counted  the 
valets  on  duty  in  the  vestibule,  and  when  he  ascended 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE    289 

the  staircase  behind  a  lackey  attired  in  a  black  dress- 
coat,  and  as  serious  in  mien  as  a  notary;  when  he 
passed  through  the  handsome  drawing-rooms,  filled  to 
overflowing  with  pictures,  armor,  statuary,  and  all  the 
trophies  gained  by  the  marquis's  horses  upon  the  turf, 
M.  Wilkie  mentally  acknowledged  that  he  knew  nothing 
of  high  life,  and  that  what  he  had  considered  luxury 
was  scarcely  the  shadow  of  the  reality.  He  felt  actually 
ashamed  of  his  own  ignorance.  This  feeling  of  in- 
feriority became  so  powerful  that  he  was  almost 
tempted  to  turn  and  fly,  when  the  man  clothed  in  black 
opened  the  door  and  announced,  in  a  clear  voice  :  "  M. 
le  Vicomte  de  Coralth  ! — M.  Wilkie." 

With  a  most  gracious  and  dignified  air — the  air  of 
a  true  grand  seigneur — the  only  portion  of  his  inher- 
itance which  he  had  preserved  intact,  the  marquis  rose 
to  his  feet,  and,  offering  his  hand  to  M.  de  Coralth, 
exclaimed:  "You  are  most  welcome,  viscount.  This 
gentleman  is  undoubtedly  the  young  friend  you  spoke 
of  in  the  note  I  received  from  you  this  morning?  " 

"  The  same  ;  and  really  he  stands  greatly  in  need  of 
your  kindness.  He  finds  himself  in  an  extremely  deli- 
cate position,  and  knows  no  one  who  can  lend  him  a 
helping  hand." 

"  Ah,  well,  I  will  lend  him  one  with  pleasure,  since 
he  is  your  friend.  But  I  must  know  the  circumstances 
before  I  can  act.  Sit  down,  gentlemen,  and  enlighten 
me. 

M.  Wilkie  had  prepared  his  story  in  advance,  a 
touching  and  witty  narrative;  but  when  the  moment 
came  to  begin  it,  he  found  himself  unable  to  speak. 
He  opened  his  mouth,  but  no  sound  issued  from  his 
lips,  and  it  seemed  as  if  he  had  been  stricken  dumb. 
Accordingly  it  was  M.  de  Coralth  who  made  a  state- 


290    BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

ment  of  the  case,  and  he  did  it  well.  The  narrative 
thus  gained  considerably  in  clearness  and  precision; 
and  even  M.  Wilkie  noticed  that  his  friend  understood 
how  to  present  the  events  in  their  most  favorable  light, 
and  how  to  omit  them  altogether  when  his  heartless 
conduct  would  have  appeared  too  odious.  He  also 
noticed — and  he  considered  it  an  excellent  omen — that 
M,  de  Valorsay  was  listening  with  the  closest  attention. 

Worthy  marquis!  if  his  own  interests  had  been  in 
jeopardy  he  could  not  have  appeared  more  deeply  con- 
cerned. When  the  viscount  had  concluded  his  story, 
he  gravely  exclaimed  :  "  Your  young  friend  is  indeed 
in  a  most  critical  position,  a  position  from  which  he 
cannot  escape  without  being  terribly  victimized,  if  he's 
left  dependent  on  his  own  resources." 

"  But  it  is  understood  that  you  will  help  him,  is  it 
not?" 

M.  de  Valorsay  reflected  for  a  little,  and  then,  ad- 
dressing M.  Wilkie,  replied  :  "  Yes,  I  consent  to  assist 
you,  monsieur.  First,  because  your  cause  seems  to  me 
just,  and,  also,  because  you  are  M.  de  Coralth's  friend. 
I  promise  you  my  aid  on  one  condition — that  you  will 
follow  my  advice  implicitly." 

The  interesting  young  man  lifted  his  hand,  and,  by 
dint  of  a  powerful  effort,  he  succeeded  in  articulating: 
"  Anything  you  wish  ! — upon  my  sacred  word  !  " 

"  You  must  understand  that  when  I  engage  in  an 
enterprise,  it  must  not  fail.  The  eye  of  the  public  is 
upon  me,  and  I  have  my  prestige  to  maintain.  I  have 
given  you  a  great  mark  of  confidence,  for  in  lending 
you  my  influence  I  become,  in  some  measure  at  least, 
your  sponsor.  But  I  cannot  accept  this  great  responsi- 
bility unless  I  am  allowed  absolute  control  of  the  affair." 

"  Of  course." 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE    291 

"  And  I  think  that  we  ought  to  begin  operations  this 
very  day.  The  main  thing  is  to  circumvent  your 
father,  the  terrible  man  with  whom  your  mother  has 
threatened  you." 

"Ah!  but  how?" 

"  I  shall  dress  at  once  and  go  to  the  Hôtel  de  Cha- 
lusse,  in  order  to  ascertain  what  has  occurred  there. 
You  on  your  side  must  hasten  to  Aladame  d'Argelès 
and  request  her  politely,  but  firmly,  to  furnish  you  with 
the  necessary  proofs  to  assert  your  rights.  If  she  con- 
sents, well  and  good  !  If  she  refuses,  we  will  consult 
some  lawyer  as  to  the  next  step.  In  any  case,  call  here 
again  at  four  o'clock." 

But  the  thought  of  meeting  Madame  d'Argelès  again 
was  anything  but  pleasing  to  Wilkie.  "  I  would  will- 
ingly yield  that  undertaking  to  some  one  else,"  said 
he.    "  Cannot  some  one  else  go  in  my  place?  " 

Fortunately  M.  de  Coralth  knew  how  to  encourage 
him.    "  What  !  are  you  afraid?  "  he  asked. 

Afraid  !  he  ? — never  !  It  was  easy  to  see  that  by  the 
way  he  settled  his  hat  on  his  head  and  went  ofï,  slam- 
ming the  door  noisily  behind  him. 

"  What  an  idiot  !  "  muttered  M.  de  Coralth.  "  And 
to  think  that  there  are  ten  thousand  in  Paris  built  upon 
the  very  same  plan  !  " 

M.  de  Valorsay  gravely  shook  his  head.  "  Let  us 
thank  fortune  that  he  is  as  he  is.  No  youth  who  pos- 
sessed either  heart  or  intelligence  would  play  the  part 
that  I  intend  for  him,  and  enable  me  to  obtain  proud 
Marguerite  and  her  millions.  But  I  fear  he  won't  go 
to  Madame  d'Argelès's  house.  You  noticed  his  re- 
pugnance !  " 

"  Oh,  you  needn't  trouble  yourself  in  the  least  on 
that  account — he'll  go.     He  would  go  to  the  devil  if 


292     BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

the  noble  Marquis  de  Valorsay  ordered  him  to  do  so." 

M.  de  Coralth  understood  Wilkie  perfectly.  The 
fear  of  being  considered  a  coward  by  a  nobleman  like 
the  Marquis  de  Valorsay  was  more  than  sufficient,  not 
only  to  divest  him  of  all  his  scruples,  but  even  to  induce 
him  to  commit  any  act  of  folly,  or  actually  a  crime. 
For  if  he  had  looked  upon  M.  de  Coralth  as  an  oracle, 
he  considered  the  marquis  to  be  a  perfect  god. 

Accordingly,  as  he  hastened  toward  Madame  d'Ar- 
gelès's  residence,  he  said  to  himself:  "Why  shouldn't 
I  go  to  her  house?  I've  done  her  no  injury.  Besides, 
she  won't  eat  me."  And  remembering  that  he  should 
be  obliged  to  render  a  report  of  this  interview,  he  re- 
solved to  assert  his  superiority  and  to  remain  cool  and 
unmoved,  as  he  had  seen  M.  de  Coralth  do  so  often. 

However,  the  unusual  aspect  of  the  house  excited  his 
surprise,  and  puzzled  him  not  a  little.  Three  huge 
furniture  vans,  heavily  laden,  were  standing  outside  the 
gate.  In  the  courtyard  there  were  two  more  vehicles  of 
the  same  description,  which  a  dozen  men  or  so  were 
busily  engaged  in  loading.  "  Ah,  ha  !  "  muttered  M. 
Wilkie,  "  it  was  fortunate  that  I  came — very  fortunate  ; 
so  she  was  going  to  run  away  !  "  Thereupon,  ap- 
proaching a  group  of  servants  who  were  in  close  con- 
ference in  the  hall,  he  demanded,  in  his  most  imperious 
manner  :  "  Madame  d'Argelès  !  " 

The  servants  remembered  the  visitor  perfectly;  they 
now  knew  who  he  really  was,  and  they  could  not 
understand  how  he  could  have  the  impudence  and 
audacity  to  come  there  again  so  soon  after  the  shame- 
ful scene  of  the  previous  evening.  "  Madame  is  at 
home,"  replied  one  of  the  men,  in  anything  but  a 
polite  tone  ;  "  and  I  will  go  and  see  if  she  will  consent 
to  see  you.     Wait  here." 


BARON   TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE     293 

He  went  off,  leaving  M.  Wilkie  in  the  vestibule  to 
settle  his  collar  and  twirl  his  puny  mustaches,  with 
affected  indifference;  but  in  reality  he  was  far  from 
comfortable.  For  the  servants  did  not  hesitate  to  stare 
at  him,  and  it  was  quite  impossible  not  to  read  their 
contempt  in  their  glances.  They  even  sneered  audibly 
and  pointed  at  him  ;  and  he  heard  five  or  six  epithets 
more  expressive  than  elegant  which  could  only  have 
been  meant  for  himself.  "  The  fools  !  "  thought  he, 
boiling    with    anger.      "  The    scoundrels  !      Ah  !  if  I 

dared If  a  gentleman  like  myself  was  allowed  to 

notice  such  blackguards,  how  I'd  chastise  them  !  " 

But  the  valet  who  had  gone  to  warn  Madame  d'Ar- 
gelès  soon  reappeared  and  put  an  end  to  his  sufferings. 
"  Madame  will  see  you,"  said  the  man,  impudently. 
"  Ah  !  if  I  were  in  her  place " 

"  Come,  make  haste,"  rejoined  Wilkie,  indignantly, 
and  following  the  servant,  he  was  ushered  into  a  room 
which  had  already  been  divested  of  its  hangings,  cur- 
tains, and  furniture.  He  here  found  Madame  d'Ar- 
gelès  engaged  in  packing  a  large  trunk  with  household 
linen  and  sundry  articles  of  clothing. 

By  a  sort  of  miracle  the  unfortunate  woman  had  sur- 
vived the  terrible  shock  which  had  at  first  threatened  to 
have  an  immediately  fatal  effect.  Still  she  had  none 
the  less  received  her  death-blow.  It  was  only  necessary 
to  look  at  her  to  be  assured  of  that.  She  was  so 
greatly  changed  that  when  M.  Wilkie's  eyes  first  fell 
on  her,  he  asked  himself  if  this  were  really  the  same 
person  whom  he  had  met  on  the  previous  evening. 
Henceforth  she  would  be  an  old  woman.  You  would 
have  taken  her  for  over  fifty,  so  terrible  had  been  the 
sufferings  caused  her  by  the  shameful  conduct  of  her 
son.     In  this  sad-eyed,  haggard-faced  woman,  clad  in 


294    BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

black,  no  one  would  have  recognized  the  notorious  Lia 
d'Argelès,  who,  only  the  evening  before,  had  driven 
round  the  lake,  reclining  on  the  cushions  of  her  vic- 
toria, and  eclipsing  all  the  women  around  her  by  the 
splendor  of  her  toilette.  Nothing  now  remained  of 
the  gay  worldling  but  the  golden  hair  which  she  was 
condemned  to  see  always  the  same,  since  its  tint  had 
been  fixed  by  dyes  as  indelible  as  the  stains  upon  her 
past. 

She  rose  with  difficulty  when  M.  Wilkie  entered,  and 
in  the  expressionless  voice  of  those  who  are  without 
hope,  she  asked:  "  What  do  you  wish  of  me?  " 

As  usual,  when  the  time  came  to  carry  out  his  hap- 
piest conceptions,  his  courage  failed  him.  "  I  came 
to  talk  about  our  afïairs,  you  know,"  he  replied,  "  and  I 
find  you  moving." 

"  I  am  not  moving." 

"  Nonsense  !  you  can't  make  me  believe  that  !  What's 
the  meaning  of  these  carts  in  the  courtyard  ?  " 

"  They  are  here  to  convey  all  the  furniture  in  the 
house  to  the  auction-rooms." 

Wilkie  was  struck  dumb  for  a  moment,  but  event- 
ually recovering  himself  a  little,  he  exclaimed  :  "  What  ! 
you  are  going  to  sell  everything?" 

"  Yes." 

"Astonishing,  upon  my  honor!    But  afterward?" 

"  I  shall  leave  Paris." 

"  Bah  !  and  where  are  you  going?  " 

With  a  gesture  of  utter  indifference,  she  gently  re- 
plied :  "  I  don't  know  ;  I  shall  go  where  no  one  will 
know  me,  and  where  it  will  be  possible  for  me  to  hide 
my  shame." 

A  terrible  disquietude  seized  hold  of  Wilkie.  This 
sudden  change  of  residence,  this  departure  which  so 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE    295 

strongly  resembled  flight,  this  cold  greeting  when  he 
expected  passionate  reproaches,  seemed  to  indicate  that 
Madame  d'Argelès's  resolution  would  successfully  re- 
sist any  amount  of  entreaty  on  his  part.  "  The  devil," 
he  remarked,  "  I  don't  think  this  at  all  pleasant  !  What 
is  to  become  of  mef  How  am  I  to  obtain  possession  of 
the  Count  de  Chalusse's  estate?  That's  what  I  am 
after  !  It's  rightfully  mine,  and  I'm  determined  to  have 
it,  as  I  told  you  once  before.  And  when  I've  once 
taken  anything  into  my  head " 

He  paused,  for  he  could  no  longer  face  the  scornful 
glances  that  Madame  d'Argelès  was  giving  him.  "Don't 
be  alarmed,"  she  replied  bitterly,  "  I  shall  leave  you  the 
means  of  asserting  your  right  to  my  parents'  estate." 

"  Ah— so " 

"  Your  threats  obliged  me  to  decide  contrary  to  my 
own  wishes.  I  felt  that  no  amount  of  slander  or  dis- 
grace would  daunt  you." 

"  Of  course  not,  when  so  many  millions  are  at  stake." 

"  I  reflected,  and  I  saw  that  nothing  would  arrest 
you  upon  your  downward  path  except  a  large  fortune. 
If  you  were  poor  and  compelled  to  earn  your  daily 
bread — a  task  which  you  are  probably  incapable  of 
performing — who  can  tell  what  depths  of  degradation 
you  might  descend  to?  With  your  instincts  and  your 
vices,  who  knows  what  crime  you  wouldn't  commit  to 
obtain  money?  It  wouldn't  be  long  before  you  were 
in  the  dock,  and  I  should  hear  of  you  only  through  your 
disgrace.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  if  you  were  rich, 
you  would  probably  lead  an  honest  life,  like  many 
others,  who,  wanting  for  nothing,  are  not  tempted  to 
do  wrong,  who,  in  fact,  show  virtue  in  which  there  is 
nothing  worthy  of  praise.  For  real  virtue  implies 
temptation — a  struggle  and  victory." 


296     BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

Although  he  did  not  understand  these  remarks  very- 
well,  M.  Wilkie  evinced  a  desire  to  offer  some  objec- 
tions ;  but  Madame  d'Argelès  had  already  resumed  : 
"  So  I  went  to  my  notary  this  morning.  I  told  him 
everything;  and  by  this  time  my  renunciation  of  my 
rights  to  the  estate  of  the  Count  de  Chalusse  is  already 
recorded." 

"  What  !  your  renunciation.     Oh  !  no." 

"  Allow  me  to  finish  since  you  don't  understand  me. 
As  soon  as  I  renounce  the  inheritance  it  becomes 
yours." 

"Truly?" 

"  I  have  no  wish  to  deceive  you.  I  only  desire  that 
the  name  of  Lia  d'Argelès  should  not  be  mentioned. 
I  will  give  you  the  necessary  proofs  to  establish  your 
identity;  my  marriage  contract  and  your  certificate  of 
birth." 

It  was  joy  that  made  M.  Wilkie  speechless  now. 
"  And  when  will  you  give  me  these  documents  ?  "  he 
faltered,  after  a  short  pause. 

"  You  shall  have  them  before  you  leave  this  house  ; 
but  first  of  all  I  must  talk  with  you." 


XV. 


Agitated  and  excited  though  he  was,  M.  Wilkie  had 
not  once  ceased  to  think  of  M.  de  Coralth  and  the 
Marquis  de  Valorsay.  What  would  they  do  in  such  a 
position,  and  how  should  he  act  to  conform  himself  to 
the  probable  example  of  these  models  of  deportment? 
Manifestly  he  ought  to  assume  that  stolid  and  insolent 
air  of  boredom  which  is  considered  a  sure  indication  of 
birth  and  breeding.    Convinced  of  this,  and  seized  with 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE     297 

a  laudable  desire  to  emulate  such  distinguished  ex- 
amples, he  had  perched  himself  upon  a  trunk,  where  he 
still  sat  with  his  legs  crossed.  He  now  pretended  to 
suppress  a  yawn,  as  he  growled,  "  What  !  some  more 
long  phrases — and  another  melodramatic  display?" 

Absorbed  in  the  memories  she  had  invoked,  Madame 
d'Argelès  paid  no  heed  to  Wilkie's  impertinence.  "  Yes, 
I  must  talk  with  you,"  she  said,  "  and  more  for  your 
sake  than  for  my  own.  I  must  tell  you  who  I  am,  and 
through  what  strange  vicissitudes  I  have  passed.  You 
know  what  family  I  belong  to.  I  will  tell  you,  how- 
ever— for  you  may  be  ignorant  of  the  fact — that  our 
house  is  the  equal  of  any  in  France  in  lineage,  splendor 
of  alliance,  and  fortune.  When  I  was  a  child,  my 
parents  lived  at  the  Hôtel  de  Chalusse,  in  the  Faubourg 
Saint  Germain,  a  perfect  palace,  surrounded  by  one 
of  those  immense  gardens,  which  are  no  longer  seen 
in  Paris — a  real  park,  shaded  with  century-old  trees. 
Certainly  everything  that  money  could  procure,  or  van- 
ity desire,  was  within  my  reach  ;  and  yet  my  youth  was 
wretchedly  unhappy.  I  scarcely  knew  my  father,  who 
was  devoured  by  ambition,  and  had  thrown  himself 
body  and  soul  into  the  vortex  of  politics.  Either  my 
mother  did  not  love  me,  or  thought  it  beneath  her  dig- 
nity to  make  any  display  of  sensibility  ;  but  at  all  events 
her  reserve  had  raised  a  wall  of  ice  between  herself 
and  me.  As  for  my  brother  he  was  too  much  engrossed 
in  pleasure  to  think  of  a  mere  child.  So  I  lived  quite 
alone,  too  proud  to  accept  the  love  and  friendship  of 
my  inferiors — abandoned  to  the  dangerous  inspirations 
of  solitude,  and  with  no  other  consolation  than  my 
books — books  which  had  been  chosen  for  me  by  my 
mother's  confessor,  and  which  were  calculated  to  fill 
my  imagination  with  visionary  and  romantic   fancies. 


298     BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

The  only  conversation  I  heard  dealt  with  the  means  of 
leaving  all  the  family  fortune  to  my  brother,  so  that  he 
might  uphold  the  splendor  of  the  name,  and  with  the 
necessity  of  marrying  me  to  some  superannuated  noble- 
man who  would  take  me  without  a  dowry,  or  of  com- 
pelling me  to  enter  one  of  those  aristocratic  convents, 
which  are  the  refuge,  and  often  the  prison,  of  poor 
girls  of  noble  birth. 

"  I  do  not  pretend  to  justify  my  fault,  I  am  only  ex- 
plaining it.  I  thought  myself  the  most  unfortunate 
being  in  the  world — and  such  I  really  was,  since  I  hon- 
estly believed  it — when  I  happened  to  meet  Arthur 
Gordon,  your  father.  I  saw  him  for  the  first  time  at 
a  fete  given  at  the  house  of  the  Comte  de  Commarin. 
How  he,  a  mere  adventurer,  had  succeeded  in  forcing 
his  way  into  the  most  exclusive  society  in  the  world,  is 
a  point  which  I  have  never  been  able  to  explain.  But, 
alas  !  it  is  only  too  true  that  when  our  glances  met  for 
the  first  time,  my  heart  was  stirred  to  its  inmost  depths  ; 
I  felt  that  it  was  no  longer  mine — that  I  was  no  longer 
free  !  Ah  !  why  does  not  God  allow  a  man's  face  to 
reflect  at  least  something  of  his  nature?  This  man, 
who  was  a  corrupt  and  audacious  hypocrite,  had  that 
air  of  apparent  nobility  and  frankness  which  inspires 
you  with  unlimited  confidence,  and  the  melancholy  ex- 
pression on  his  features  seemed  to  indicate  that  he  had 
known  sorrow,  and  had  good  cause  to  rail  at  destiny. 
In  his  whole  appearance  there  was  certainly  a  mysteri- 
ous and  fatal  charm.  I  afterward  learned  that  this  was 
only  a  natural  result  of  the  wild  life  he  had  led.  He 
was  only  twenty-six,  and  he  had  already  been  the 
commander  of  a  slave  ship,  and  had  fought  in  Mexico 
at  the  head  of  one  of  those  guerilla  bands  which  make 
politics  an  excuse  for  pillage  and  murder.     He  divined 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE     299 

only  too  well  the  impression  he  had  made  upon  my 
heart.  I  met  him  twice  afterward  in  society.  He  did 
not  speak  to  me  ;  he  even  pretended  to  avoid  me,  but 
standing  a  little  on  one  side,  he  watched  my  every 
movement  with  burning  eyes  in  which  I  fancied  I  could 
read  a  passion  as  absorbing  as  my  own.  At  last  he 
ventured  to  write  to  me.  The  moment  a  letter  ad- 
dressed to  me  in  an  unknown  hand  was  covertly  handed 
me  by  my  maid,  I  divined  that  it  came  from  him.  I 
was  frightened,  and  my  first  impulse  was  to  take  it, 
not  to  my  mother — whom  I  regarded  as  my  natural 
enemy — but  to  my  father.  However,  he  chanced  to  be 
absent;  I  kept  the  letter,  I  read  it,  I  answered  it — 
and  he  wrote  again. 

"  Alas  !  from  that  moment  my  conduct  was  inex- 
cusable. I  knew  that  it  was  worse  than  a  fault  to 
continue  this  clandestine  correspondence.  I  knew  my 
parents  would  never  give  my  hand  in  marriage  to  a 
man  who  was  not  of  noble  birth.  I  knew  that  I  was 
risking  my  reputation,  the  spotless  honor  of  our  house, 
my  happiness,  and  life  !  Still  I  persisted — I  was  pos- 
sessed with  a  strange  madness  that  made  me  ready  to 
brave  every  danger.  Besides,  he  gave  me  no  time  to 
breathe,  or  reflect.  Everywhere,  constantly,  every  in- 
stant, he  compelled  me  to  think  of  him.  By  some 
miracle  of  address  and  audacity,  he  had  discovered  a 
means  of  intruding  upon  my  presence,  even  in  my 
father's  house.  For  instance,  every  morning  I  found 
the  vases  in  my  room  full  of  choice  flowers,  though  I 
was  never  able  to  discover  what  hands  had  placed  them 
there.  Ah  !  how  can  one  help  believing  in  an  omni- 
present passion  which  one  inhales  with  the  very  air  one 
breathes!     How  can  one  resist  it? 

"  I  only  discovered  Arthur  Gordon's  object  when  it 


300     BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

was  too  late.  He  had  come  to  Paris  with  the  fixed  de- 
termination of  trapping  some  rich  heiress,  and  forcing 
her  family  to  give  her  to  him  with  a  large  dowry,  after 
one  of  those  disgraceful  scandals  which  render  a  mar- 
riage inevitable.  At  the  very  same  time  he  was  pur- 
suing two  other  rich  young  girls,  persuaded  that  one 
of  the  three  would  certainly  become  his  victim. 

"  I  was  the  first  to  yield.  One  of  those  unforeseen 
events  which  are  the  work  of  Providence,  was  destined 
to  decide  my  fate.  Several  times,  already,  in  compli- 
ance with  Arthur's  urgent  entreaties,  I  had  met  him 
at  night  time  in  a  little  pavilion  in  our  garden.  This 
pavilion  contained  a  billiard-room  and  a  spacious  gal- 
lery in  which  my  brother  practised  fencing  and  pistol 
shooting  with  his  masters  and  friends.  There,  thanks 
to  the  liberty  I  enjoyed,  we  thought  ourselves  perfectly 
secure  from  observation,  and  we  were  imprudent 
enough  to  light  the  candles.  One  night  when  I  had 
just  joined  Arthur  in  the  pavilion,  I  thought  I  heard 
the  sound  of  hoarse,  heavy  breathing  behind  me.  I 
turned  round  in  a  fright  and  saw  my  brother  standing 
on  the  threshold.  Oh  !  then  I  realized  how  guilty  I 
had  been  !  I  felt  that  one  or  the  other  of  these  two 
men — my  lover  or  my  brother — would  not  leave  that 
room  alive. 

"  I  tried  to  speak,  to  throw  myself  between  them,  but 
I  found  I  could  neither  speak  nor  move;  it  was  as  if 
I  had  been  turned  to  stone.  Nor  did  they  exchange  a 
word  at  first.  But  at  last  my  brother  drew  two  swords 
from  their  scabbards,  and  throwing  one  at  Arthur's 
feet,  exclaimed  :  '  I  have  no  wish  to  assassinate  you. 
Defend  yourself,  and  save  your  life  if  you  can  !  '  And 
as  Arthur  hesitated,  and  seemed  to  be  trying  to  gain 
time  instead  of  picking  up  the  weapon  that  was  lying 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE    301 

on  the  floor  near  him,  my  brother  struck  him  in  the 
face  with  the  flat  side  of  his  sword,  and  cried  :  '  Now 
will  you  fight,  you  coward  !  '  In  an  instant  it  was  all 
over.  Arthur  caught  up  the  sword,  and  springing  upon 
my  brother,  disarmed  him,  and  wounded  him  in  the 
breast.  I  saw  this.  I  saw  the  blood  spurt  out  upon 
my  lover's  hands.  I  saw  my  brother  stagger,  beat  the 
air  wildly  with  his  hands,  and  fall  apparently  lifeless 
to  the  floor.    Then  I,  too,  lost  consciousness  and  fell  !  " 

Any  one  who  had  seen  Madame  d'Argelès  as  she 
stood  there  recoiling  in  horror,  with  her  features  con- 
tracted, and  her  eyes  dilated,  would  have  realized  that 
by  strength  of  will  she  had  dispelled  the  mists  en- 
shrouding the  past,  and  distinctly  beheld  the  scene  she 
was  describing.  She  seemed  to  experience  anew  the 
same  agony  of  terror  she  had  felt  twenty  years  before; 
and  this  lent  such  poignant  intensity  to  the  interest  of 
her  narrative  that  if  M,  Wilkie's  heart  was  not  exactly 
touched,  he  was,  as  he  afterward  confessed,  at  least 
rather  interested.  But  Madame  d'Argelès  seemed  to 
have  forgotten  his  existence.  She  wiped  away  the  foam- 
flecked  blood  which  had  risen  to  her  lips,  and  in  the 
same  mournful  voice  resumed  her  story. 

"  When  I  regained  my  senses  it  was  morning,  and  I 
was  lying,  still  dressed,  on  a  bed  in  a  strange  room. 
Arthur  Gordon  was  standing  at  the  foot  of  the  bed 
anxiously  watching  my  movements.  He  did  not  give 
me  time  to  question  him.  '  You  are  in  my  house,'  said 
he.  *  Your  brother  is  dead  !  '  Almighty  God  !  I 
thought  I  should  die  as  well.  I  hoped  so.  I  prayed  for 
death.  But,  in  spite  of  my  sobs,  he  pitilessly  continued  : 
*  It  is  a  terrible  misfortune  which  I  shall  never  cease 
to  regret.  And  yet,  it  was  his  own  fault.  You,  who 
witnessed  the  scene,  know  that  it  was  so.    You  can  still 


302     BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

see  on  my  face  the  mark  of  the  blow  he  dealt  me.  I 
only  defended  myself  and  you.'  I  was  ignorant  then  of 
the  accepted  code  of  duelling.  I  did  not  know  that  by 
throwing  himself  upon  my  brother  before  he  was  on 
guard,  Arthur  Gordon  had  virtually  assassinated  him. 
He  relied  upon  my  ignorance  for  the  success  of  the 
sinister  farce  he  was  playing.  '  When  I  saw  your 
brother  fall,'  he  continued,  '  I  was  wild  with  terror  ; 
and  not  knowing  what  I  did,  I  caught  you  up  in  my 
arms  and  brought  you  here.  But  don't  tremble,  I  know 
that  you  are  not  in  my  house  of  your  own  free  will.  A 
carriage  is  below  and  awaits  your  orders  to  convey  you 
to  your  parents'  home.  It  will  be  easy  to  find  an  ex- 
planation for  last  night's  catastrophe.  Slander  will  not 
venture  to  attack  such  a  family  as  yours.'  He  spoke 
in  the  constrained  tone,  and  with  that  air  which  a 
brave  man,  condemned  to  death,  would  assume  in  giv- 
ing utterance  to  his  last  wishes.  I  felt  as  if  I  were 
going  mad.  '  And  you  !  '  I  exclaimed,  '  you  !  What 
will  become  of  you  ?  '  He  shook  his  head,  and  with  a 
look  of  anguish,  replied  :  *  Me  !  What  does  it  matter 
about  me  !  I  am  ruined  undoubtedly.  So  much  the 
better.  Nothing  matters  now  that  I  must  live  apart 
from  you  '  !  Ah  !  he  knew  my  heart.  He  knew  his 
power  !  Swayed  by  an  emotion  which  was  madness 
rather  than  heroism,  I  sprang  toward  him,  and  clasped 
him  in  my  arms  :  '  Then  I,  too,  am  lost  !  '  I  cried. 
'  Since  fate  united  us,  nothing  but  death  shall  separate 
us.  I  love  you.  I  am  your  accomplice.  Let  the  curse 
fall  upon  both  !  ' 

"  A  keen  observer  would  certainly  have  detected  a 
gleam  of  fiendish  joy  in  his  eyes.  But  he  protested,  or 
pretended  to  protest.  With  feigned  energy  he  refused 
to  accept  such  a  sacrifice.     He  could  not  link  my  des- 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE    303 

tiny  to  his,  for  misery  had  ever  been  his  lot;  and  now 
that  this  last  and  most  terrible  misfortune  had  over- 
taken him,  he  was  more  than  ever  convinced  that  there 
was  a  curse  hanging  over  him  !  He  would  not  suffer 
me  to  bring  misery  upon  myself,  and  eternal  remorse 
upon  him.  But  the  more  he  repulsed  me,  the  more 
obstinately  I  clung  to  him.  The  more  forcibly  he 
showed  the  horror  of  the  sacrifice,  the  more  I  was  con^ 
vinced  that  my  honor  compelled  me  to  make  it.  So  at 
last  he  yielded,  or  seemed  to  yield,  with  transports  of 
gratitude  and  love.  '  WelH  yes,  I  accept  your  sacrifice, 
my  darling  !  '  he  exclaimed.  '  I  accept  it  ;  and  before 
the  God  who  is  looking  down  upon  us,  I  swear  that  I 
will  do  all  that  is  in  human  power  to  repay  such  sublime 
and  marvellous  devotion.'  And,  bending  over  me,  he 
printed  a  kiss  upon  my  forehead.  '  But  we  must  fly  !  ' 
he  resumed,  quickly.  '  I  have  my  happiness  to  defend 
now  !  I  will  not  suffer  any  one  to  discover  us  and  sep- 
arate us  now.  We  must  start  at  once,  without  losing  a 
moment,  and  gain  my  native  land,  America.  There,  we 
shall  be  safe.  For  rest  assured  they  will  search  for  us. 
Who  knows  but  even  now  the  officers  of  the  law  are 
upon  our  track?  Your  family  is  all-powerful — I  am  a 
mere  nobody — we  should  be  crushed  if  they  discover 
us.  They  would  bury  you  in  a  gloomy  cloister,  and  I 
should  be  tried  as  a  common  thief,  or  as  a  vile  assassin.' 
My  only  answer  was  :  '  Let  us  go  !  Let  us  go  at  once  !  ' 
"  It  had  been  easy  for  him  to  foresee  what  the  result 
of  this  interview  would  be.  A  vehicle  was  indeed  wait- 
ing at  the  door,  but  not  for  the  purpose  of  conveying 
me  to  the  Hôtel  de  Chalusse — as  was  proved  conclu- 
sively by  the  fact  that  his  trunks  were  already  strapped 
upon  it.  Besides,  the  coachman  must  have  received  his 
instructions  in  advance,  for  he  drove  us  straight  to  the 


304     BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

Havre  Railway  station  without  a  word.  It  was  not 
until  some  months  afterward  that  these  trifles,  which 
entirely  escaped  my  notice  at  the  time,  opened  my  eyes 
to  the  truth.  When  we  reached  the  station  we  found  a 
train  ready  to  start,  and  we  took  our  places  in  it.  I 
tried  to  quiet  my  conscience  with  miserable  sophistries. 
Remembering  that  God  has  said  to  woman  :  To  follow 
thy  husband  thou  shalt  abandon  all  else,  native  land, 
paternal  home,  parents  and  friends,  I  told  myself  that 
this  was  the  husband  whom  my  heart  had  instinctively 
chosen,  and  that  it  was  my  duty  to  follow  him  and  share 
his  destiny.  And  thus  I  fled  with  him,  although  I 
thought  I  left  a  corpse  behind  me — the  corpse  of  my 
only  brother." 

M.  Wilkie  was  actually  so  much  interested  that  he 
forgot  his  anxiety  concerning  his  attitude,  and  no 
longer  thought  of  M.  de  Coralth  and  the  Marquis  de 
Valorsay.  He  even  sprang  up,  and  exclaimed  :  "  Amaz- 
ing!" 

But  Madame  d'Argelès  had  already  resumed  :  "  Such 
was  my  great,  inexcusable,  irreparable  fault.  I  have 
told  you  the  whole  truth,  without  trying  either  to  con- 
ceal or  justify  anything.  Listen  to  my  chastisement  ! 
On  our  arrival  at  Le  Havre  the  next  day,  Arthur  con- 
fessed that  he  was  greatly  embarrassed  financially. 
Owing  to  our  precipitate  flight,  he  had  not  had  time  to 
realize  the  property  he  possessed — at  least  so  he  told 
me — a  banker,  on  whom  he  had  depended,  had  more- 
over failed  him,  and  he  had  not  sufficient  money  to  pay 
our  passage  to  New  York.  This  amazed  me.  My  edu- 
cation had  been  absurd,  like  that  of  most  young  girls  in 
my  station.  I  knew  nothing  of  real  life,  of  its  require- 
ments and  difficulties.  I  knew,  of  course,  that  there 
were  rich  people  and  poor  people,  that  money  was  a 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE    305 

necessity,  and  that  those  who  did  not  possess  it  would 
stoop  to  any  meanness  to  obtain  it.  But  all  this  was 
not  very  clear  in  my  mind,  and  I  never  suspected  that 
a  few  francs  more  or  less  would  be  a  matter  of  vital 
importance.  So  I  was  not  in  the  least  prepared  for  the 
request  to  which  this  confession  served  as  preface,  and 
Arthur  Gordon  was  obliged  to  ask  me  point-blank  if  I 
did  not  happen  to  have  some  money  about  me,  or  some 
jewelry  which  could  be  converted  into  money.  I  gave 
him  all  I  had,  my  purse  containing  a  few  louis,  a  ring 
and  a  necklace,  with  a  handsome  diamond  cross  at- 
tached to  it.  However,  the  total  value  was  compara- 
tively small,  and  such  was  Arthur's  disappointment  that 
he  made  a  remark  which  frightened  me  even  then, 
though  I  did  not  fully  understand  its  shameful  mean- 
ing until  afterward  :  *  A  woman  who  repairs  to  a 
rendezvous  should  always  have  all  the  valuables  she 
possesses  about  her.  One  never  knows  what  may 
happen.' 

"  Want  of  money  was  keeping  us  prisoners  at  Le 
Havre,  when  Arthur  Gordon  chanced  to  meet  an  old 
acquaintance,  who  was  the  captain  of  an  American 
sailing  vessel.  He  confided  his  embarrassment  to  his 
friend,  and  the  latter,  whose  vessel  was  to  sail  at  the 
end  of  the  same  week,  kindly  ofïered  us  a  free  passage. 
The  voyage  was  one  long  torture  to  me,  for  it  was  then 
that  I  first  served  my  apprenticeship  in  shame  and  dis- 
grace. By  the  captain's  offensive  gallantry,  the  lower 
officers'  familiarity  of  manner,  and  the  sailors'  ironical 
glances  whenever  I  appeared  on  deck,  I  saw  that  my 
position  was  a  secret  for  no  one.  Everybody  knew  that 
I  was  the  mistress  and  not  the  wife  of  the  man  whom 
I  called  my  husband  ;  and,  without  being  really  con- 
scious of  it,  perhaps,  they  made  me  cruelly  expiate  my 


306    BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

fault.  Moreover,  reason  had  regained  its  ascendency, 
my  eyes  were  gradually  opening  to  the  truth,  and  I  was 
beginning  to  learn  the  real  character  of  the  scoundrel 
for  whom  I  had  sacrificed  all  that  makes  life  desirable. 

"  Not  that  he  had  wholly  ceased  to  practise  dissimu- 
lation. But  after  the  evening  meal  he  often  lingered 
at  table  smoking  and  drinking  with  his  friend  the  cap- 
tain, and  when  he  joined  me  afterward,  heated  with 
alcohol,  he  shocked  me  by  advocating  theories  which 
were  both  novel  and  repulsive  to  me.  Once,  after 
drinking  more  than  usual,  he  entirely  forgot  his  as- 
sumed part,  and  revealed  himself  in  his  true  character. 
He  declared  he  bitterly  regretted  that  our  love  affair 
had  ended  so  disastrously.  It  was  deplorable  to  think 
that  so  happily  conceived  and  so  skilfully  conducted  a 
scheme  should  have  terminated  in  bloodshed.  And  the 
blow  had  fallen  just  as  he  fancied  he  had  reached  the 
goal  ;  just  as  he  thought  he  would  reap  the  reward  of 
his  labor.  In  a  few  weeks'  more  time  he  would  un- 
doubtedly have  gained  sufficient  influence  over  me  to 
persuade  me  to  elope  with  him.  This  would,  of  course, 
have  caused  a  great  scandal  ;  the  next  day  there  would 
have  been  a  family  conclave  ;  a  compromise  would  have 
been  effected,  and  finally,  a  marriage  arranged  with  a 
large  dowry,  to  hush  up  the  affair.  '  And  I  should  now 
be  a  rich  man,'  he  added,  '  a  very  rich  man — I  should 
be  rolling  through  the  streets  of  Paris  in  my  carriage, 
instead  of  being  on  board  this  cursed  ship,  eating  salt 
cod  twice  a  day,  and  living  on  charity.' 

"  Ah  !  it  was  no  longer  possible  to  doubt.  The  truth 
was  as  clear  as  daylight.  I  had  never  been  loved,  not 
even  an  hour,  not  even  a  moment.  The  loving  letters 
which  had  blinded  me,  the  protestations  of  affection 
which  had   deceived  me,   had  been  addressed   to   my 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE    307 

father's  millions,  not  to  myself.  And  not  unfrequently 
I  saw  Arthur  Gordon's  face  darken,  as  he  talked  with 
evident  anxiety  about  what  he  could  do  to  earn  a  living 
for  himself  and  me  in  America.  '  I  have  had  trouble 
enough  to  get  on  alone,'  he  grumbled.  *  What  will  it 
be  now?  To  burden  myself  with  a  penniless  wife! 
What  egregious  folly!  And  yet  I  couldn't  have  acted 
differently — I  was  compelled  to  do  it.'  Why  had  he 
been  compelled  to  do  it?  why  had  he  not  acted  dif- 
ferently?— that  was  what  I  vainly  puzzled  my  brain  to 
explain.  However,  his  gloomy  fears  of  poverty  were 
not  realized.  A  delightful  surprise  awaited  him  at  New 
York.  A  relative  had  recently  died,  leaving  him  a 
legacy  of  fifty  thousand  dollars — a  small  fortune.  I 
hoped  that  he  would  now  cease  his  constant  complaints, 
but  he  seemed  even  more  displeased  than  before. 
*  Such  is  the  irony  of  fate,'  he  repeated  again  and 
again.  '  With  this  money,  I  might  easily  have  married 
a  wife  worth  a  hundred  thousand  dollars,  and  then  I 
should  be  rich  at  last  !  '  After  that,  I  had  good  reason 
to  expect  that  I  should  soon  be  forsaken — but  no, 
shortly  after  our  arrival,  he  married  me.  Had  he  done 
so  out  of  respect  for  his  word?  I  believed  so.  But, 
alas  !  this  marriage  was  the  result  of  calculation,  like 
everything  else  he  did. 

"  We  were  living  in  New  York,  when  one  evening 
he  came  home,  looking  very  pale  and  agitated.  He 
had  a  French  nawspaper  in  his  hand.  '  Read  this,'  he 
said,  handing  it  to  me.  I  took  the  paper  as  he  bade 
me,  and  read  that  my  brother  had  not  been  killed,  that 
he  was  improving,  and  that  his  recovery  was  now  cer- 
tain. And  as  I  fell  on  my  knees,  bursting  into  tears, 
and  thanking  God  for  freeing  me  from  such  terrible 
remorse,  he  exclaimed  :  '  We  are  in  a  nice  fix  !    I  advise 


308    BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

you  to  congratulate  yourself  !  '  From  that  time  for- 
ward, I  noticed  he  displayed  the  feverish  anxiety  of  a 
man  who  feels  that  he  is  constantly  threatened  with 
some  great  danger.  A  few  days  afterward,  he  said  to 
me  :  '  I  cannot  endure  this  !  Have  our  trunks  ready  to- 
morrow, and  we  will  start  South.  Instead  of  calling  our- 
selves Gordon,  we'll  travel  under  the  name  of  Grant.'  I 
did  not  venture  to  question  him.  He  had  quite  mas- 
tered me  by  his  cruel  tyranny,  and  I  was  accustomed 
to  obey  him  like  a  slave  in  terror  of  the  lash.  However, 
during  our  long  journey,  I  learned  the  cause  of  our 
flight  and  change  of  name. 

"  '  Your  brother,  d n  him,'  he  said,  one  day,  '  is 

hunting  for  me  everywhere  !  He  wants  to  kill  me  or 
to  deliver  me  up  to  justice,  I  don't  know  which.  He 
pretends  that  I  tried  to  murder  him  !  '  It  was  strange  ; 
but  Arthur  Gordon,  who  was  bravery  personified,  and 
who  exposed  himself  again  and  again  to  the  most 
frightful  dangers,  felt  a  wild,  unreasoning,  inconceiv- 
able fear  of  my  brother.  It  was  this  dread  that  had 
decided  him  to  burden  himself  with  me.  He  feared 
that  if  he  left  me,  lying  unconscious  beside  my  brother's 
lifeless  form,  I  might  on  recovering  my  senses  reveal 
the  truth,  and  unconsciously  act  as  his  accuser.  You 
were  born  in  Richmond,  Wilkie,  where  we  remained 
nearly  a  month,  during  which  time  I  saw  but  little  of 
your  father.  He  had  formed  the  acquaintance  of  sev- 
eral rich  planters,  and  spent  his  time  hunting  and  gam- 
bling with  them.  Unfortunately,  fifty  thousand  dollars 
could  not  last  long  at  this  rate;  and,  in  spite  of  his 
skill  as  a  gambler,  he  returned  home  one  morning 
ruined.  A  fortnight  later  when  he  had  sold  our  efïects, 
and  borrowed  all  the  money  he  could,  we  embarked 
again  for  France.     It  was  not  until  we  reached  Paris 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE     309 

that  I  discovered  the  reasons  that  had  influenced  him  in 
returning  to  Europe.  He  had  heard  of  my  father  and 
mother's  death,  and  intended  to  compel  me  to  claim 
my  share  of  the  property.  He  dared  not  appear  in 
person  on  account  of  my  brother.  At  last  the  hour  of 
my  vengeance  had  arrived;  for  I  had  taken  a  solemn 
oath  that  this  scoundrel  who  had  ruined  me  should 
never  enjoy  the  fortune  which  had  been  his  only  object 
in  seducing  me.  I  had  sworn  to  die  inch  by  inch  and 
by  the  most  frightful  tortures  rather  than  give  him 
one  penny  of  the  Chalusse  millions.  And  I  kept  my 
word. 

"  When  I  told  him  that  I  was  resolved  not  to  assert 
my  rights,  he  seemed  utterly  confounded.  He  could 
not  understand  how  the  down-trodden  slave  dared  to 
revolt  against  him.  And  when  he  found  that  my  de- 
cision was  irrevocable,  I  thought  he  would  have  an 
attack  of  apoplexy.  It  made  him  wild  with  rage  to 
think  that  he  was  only  separated  from  this  immense 
fortune — the  dream  of  his  life — by  a  single  word  of 
mine,  and  to  find  that  he  had  not  the  power  to  extort 
that  word  from  me.  Then  began  a  struggle  between 
us,  which  became  more  and  more  frightful  as  the 
money  he  possessed  gradually  dwindled  away.  But  it 
was  in  vain  that  he  resorted  to  brutal  treatment;  in 
vain  that  he  struck  me,  tortured  me,  and  dragged  me 
about  the  floor  by  the  hair  of  my  head  !  The  thought 
that  I  was  avenged,  that  his  sufferings  equalled  mine, 
increased  my  courage  a  hundredfold,  and  made  me 
almost  insensible  to  physical  pain.  He  would  certainly 
have  been  the  first  to  grow  weary  of  the  struggle,  if  a 
fiendish  plan  had  not  occurred  to  him.  He  said  to 
himself  that  if  he  could  not  conquer  the  wife,  he  could 
conquer  the  mother,  and  he  threatened  to  turn  his  bru- 


310     BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

tality  to  you,  Wilkic.  To  save  you — for  I  knew  what 
he  was  capable  of — I  pretended  to  waver,  and  I  asked 
twenty-four  hours  for  reflection.  He  granted  them. 
But  the  next  day  I  left  him  forever,  flying  from  him 
with  you  in  my  arms." 

M.  Wilkie  turned  white,  and  a  cold  chill  crept  up 
his  spine.  However,  it  was  not  pity  for  his  mother's 
sufferings,  nor  shame  for  his  father's  infamy  that  agi- 
tated him,  but  ever  the  same  terrible  fear  of  incurring 
the  enmity  of  this  dangerous  coveter  of  the  Chalusse 
millions.  Would  he  be  able  to  hold  his  father  at  bay 
even  with  the  assistance  of  M.  de  Coralth  and  the 
Marquis  de  Valorsay?  A  thousand  questions  rose  to 
his  lips,  for  he  was  eager  to  hear  the  particulars  of  his 
mother's  flight  ;  but  Madame  d'Argelès  hurried  on  with 
her  story  as  if  she  feared  her  strength  would  fail  before 
she  reached  the  end. 

"  I  was  alone  with  you,  Wilkie,  in  this  great  city," 
she  resumed.  "  A  hundred  francs  w^as  all  that  I  pos- 
sessed. My  first  care  was  to  find  a  place  of  shelter. 
For  sixteen  francs  a  month,  which  I  was  compelled  to 
pay  in  advance,  I  found  a  small,  meagrely  furnished 
room  in  the  Faubourg  Saint  Martin.  It  was  badly 
ventilated  and  miserably  lighted,  but  still  it  w^as  shelter. 
I  said  to  myself  that  we  could  live  there  together  by 
my  work,  Wilkie.  I  was  a  proficient  in  feminine  ac- 
complishments ;  I  was  an  excellent  musician,  and  I 
thought  I  should  have  no  difficulty  in  earning  the  four 
or  five  francs  a  day  which  I  considered  absolutely 
necessary  for  our  subsistence.  Alas  !  I  discovered  only 
too  soon  what  chimerical  hopes  I  had  cherished.  To 
give  music  lessons  it  is  necessary  to  obtain  pupils. 
Where  should  I  find  them  ?  I  had  no  one  to  recommend 
me,  and  I  scarcely  dared  show  myself  in  the  streets, 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE     311 

so  great  was  my  fear  that  your  father  would  discover 
our  hiding-place.  At  last,  I  decided  to  try  to  find 
some  employment  in  needlework,  and  timidly  offered 
my  services  at  several  shops.  Alas  !  it  is  only  those 
who  have  gone  about  from  door  to  door  soliciting  work 
who  know  the  misery  of  the  thing.  To  ask  alms  would 
be  scarcely  more  humiliating.  People  sneered  at  me, 
and  replied  (when  they  deigned  to  reply  at  all)  that 
*  there  was  no  business  doing,  and  they  had  all  the  help 
they  wanted.'  My  evident  inexperience  was  probably 
the  cause  of  many  of  these  refusals,  as  well  as  my 
attire,  for  I  still  had  the  appearance  of  being  a  rich 
woman.  Who  knows  what  they  took  me  for?  Still 
the  thought  of  you  sustained  me,  Wilkie,  and  nothing 
daunted  me. 

"  I  finally  succeeded  in  obtaining  some  bands  of 
muslin  to  embroider,  and  some  pieces  of  tapestry  work 
to  fill  in.  Unremunerative  employment,  no  doubt,  espe- 
cially to  one  ignorant  of  the  art  of  working  quickly, 
rather  than  well.  By  rising  with  daylight,  and  working 
until  late  at  night,  I  scarcely  succeeded  in  earning 
twenty  sous  a  day.  And  it  was  not  long  before  even 
this  scanty  resource  failed  me.  Winter  came,  and  the 
cold  weather  with  it.  One  morning  I  changed  my  last 
five-franc  piece — it  lasted  us  a  week.  Then  I  pawned 
and  sold  everything  that  was  not  absolutely  indis- 
pensable until  nothing  was  left  me  but  my  patched  dress 
and  a  single  skirt.  And  soon  an  evening  came  when 
the  owner  of  our  miserable  den  turned  us  into  the 
street  because  I  could  no  longer  pay  the  rent. 

"  This  was  the  final  blow  !  I  tottered  away,  clinging 
to  the  walls  for  support;  too  weak  from  lack  of  food 
to  carry  you.  The  rain  was  falling,  and  chilled  us  to 
the  bones.     You  were  crying  bitterly.     And  all  that 


312    BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

night  and  all  the  next  clay,  aimless  and  hopeless,  we 
wandered  about  the  streets.  I  must  either  die  of  want 
or  return  to  your  father.  I  preferred  death.  Toward 
evening — instinct  having  led  me  to  the  Seine — I  sat 
down  on  one  of  the  stone  benches  of  the  Point-Neuf, 
holding  you  on  my  knees  and  watching  the  flow  of  the 
dark  river  below.  There  was  a  strange  fascination — 
a  promise  of  peace  in  its  depths — that  impelled  me 
almost  irresistibly  to  plunge  into  the  flood.  If  I  had 
been  alone  in  the  world,  I  should  not  have  stopped  to 
consider  a  second,  but  on  your  account,  Wilkie,  I 
hesitated." 

Moved  by  the  thought  of  the  danger  he  had  escaped, 
M.  Wilkie  shuddered.  "  B-r-r-r!"  he  growled.  "You 
did  well  to  hesitate." 

She  did  not  even  hear  him,  but  continued  :  "  I  at 
last  decided  that  it  was  best  to  put  an  end  to  this 
misery,  and  rising  with  difficulty,  I  was  approaching 
the  parapet,  when  a  gruff  voice  beside  us  exclaimed  : 
'  What  are  you  doing  there  ?  '  I  turned,  thinking  some 
police  officer  had  spoken,  but  I  was  mistaken.  By  the 
light  of  the  street  lamp,  I  perceived  a  man  who  looked 
some  thirty  years  of  age,  and  had  a  frank  and  rather 
genial  face.  Why  this  stranger  instantly  inspired  me 
with  unlimited  confidence  I  don't  know.  Perhaps  it 
was  an  unconscious  horror  of  death  that  made  me  long 
for  any  token  of  human  sympathy.  However  it  may 
have  been,  I  told  him  my  story,  but  not  without  chang- 
ing the  names,  and  omitting  many  particulars.  He  had 
taken  a  seat  beside  me  on  the  bench,  and  I  saw  big 
tears  roll  down  his  cheeks  as  I  proceeded  with  my 
narrative.  '  It  is  ever  so  !  it  is  ever  so  !  '  he  muttered. 
*  To  love  is  to  incur  the  risk  of  martyrdom.  It  is  to 
offer  one's  self  as  a  victim  to  every  perfidy,  to  the 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE     313 

basest  treason  and  ingratitude.'  The  man  who  spoke 
in  this  fashion  was  Baron  Trigault.  He  did  not  allow 
me  to  finish  my  story.  '  Enough  !  '  he  suddenly  ex- 
claimed, '  follow  me  !  '  A  cab  was  passing,  he  made 
us  get  in,  and  an  hour  later  we  were  in  a  comfortable 
room,  beside  a  blazing  fire,  with  a  generously  spread 
table  before  us.  The  next  day,  moreover,  we  were  in- 
stalled in  a  pleasant  home.  Alas  !  why  wasn't  the  baron 
generous  to  the  last?  You  were  saved,  Wilkie,  but  at 
what  a  price  !  " 

She  paused  for  a  moment,  her  face  redder  than  fire  ; 
but  soon  mastering  her  agitation,  she  resumed  :  "  There 
was  one  great  cause  of  dissension  between  the  baron 
and  myself.  I  wished  you  to  be  educated,  Wilkie,  like 
the  son  of  a  noble  family,  while  he  desired  you  should 
receive  the  practical  training  suited  to  a  youth  who 
would  have  to  make  his  own  way  in  the  world,  and 
win  position,  fortune,  and  even  name  for  himself.  Ah  ! 
he  was  a  thousand  times  right,  as  events  have  since 
proved  only  too  well  !  But  maternal  love  blinded  me, 
and,  after  an  angry  discussion,  he  went  away,  declaring 
he  would  not  see  me  again  until  I  became  more  reason- 
able. He  thought  that  reflection  would  cure  me  of 
my  folly.  Unfortunately,  he  was  not  acquainted  with 
the  fatal  obstinacy  which  is  the  distinguishing  charac- 
teristic of  the  Chalusse  family.  While  I  was  wonder- 
ing how  I  could  find  the  means  of  carrying  the  plans 
I  had  formed  for  you  into  execution,  two  of  the  baron's 
acquaintances  presented  themselves,  with  the  following 
proposal  :  Aware  of  the  enormous  profits  derived  by 
clandestine  gambling  dens,  they  had  conceived  the  pro- 
ject of  opening  a  public  establishment  on  a  large  scale, 
where  any  Parisian  or  foreigner,  if  he  seemed  to  be  a 
gentleman,  and  possessed  of  means,  would  find  no  diffi- 


314     BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

culty  in  obtaining  admission.  By  taking  certain  pre- 
cautions, and  by  establishing  this  gambling  den  in  a 
private  drawing-room,  they  believed  the  scheme  prac- 
ticable, and  came  to  suggest  that  I  should  keep  the 
drawing-room  in  question,  and  be  their  partner  in  the 
enterprise.  Scarcely  knowing  what  I  pledged  myself 
to,  I  accepted  their  offer,  influenced — I  should  rather 
say  decided — by  the  exalted  positions  which  both  these 
gentlemen  occupied,  by  the  public  consideration  they 
enjoyed,  and  the  honored  names  they  bore.  And  that 
same  week  this  house  was  rented  and  furnished,  and  I 
was  installed  in  it  under  the  name  of  Lia  d'Argelès. 

"  But  this  was  not  all.  There  still  remained  the  task 
of  creating  for  myself  one  of  those  scandalous  reputa- 
tions that  attract  public  attention.  This  proved  an  easy 
task,  thanks  to  the  assistance  of  my  silent  partners,  and 
the  innocent  simplicity  of  several  of  their  friends  and 
certain  journalists.  As  for  myself,  I  did  my  best  to 
insure  the  success  of  the  horrible  farce  which  was  to 
lend  infamous  notoriety  to  the  name  of  Lia  d'Argelès. 
I  had  magnificent  equipages  and  superb  dresses,  and  I 
made  myself  conspicuous  at  the  theatres  and  all  places 
of  public  resort.  As  is  generally  the  case  when  one 
is  acting  contrary  to  conscience,  I  called  the  most  ab- 
surd sophistries  to  my  assistance.  I  tried  to  convince 
myself  that  appearances  are  nothing,  that  reality  is 
everything,  and  that  it  did  not  matter  if  I  were  known 
as  a  courtesan  since  rumor  lied,  and  my  life  was  really 
chaste.  When  the  baron  hastened  to  me  and  tried  to 
rescue  me  from  the  abyss  into  which  I  had  flung  myself., 
it  was  too  late.  I  had  discovered  that  the  business 
would  prove  successful;  and  for  your  sake,  I  longed' 
for  money  as  passionately,  as  madly,  as  any  miser. 
Last  year  my  gaming-room  yielded  more  than  one  hun- 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE     315 

dred  and  fifty  thousand  francs  clear  profit,  and  I  received 
as  my  share  the  thirty-five  thousand  francs  which  you 
squandered.  Now  you  know  me  as  I  really  am.  My 
associates,  my  partners,  the  men  whose  secret  I  have 
faithfully  kept,  walk  the  streets  with  their  heads  erect. 
They  boast  of  their  unsullied  honor,  and  they  are 
respected  by  every  one.  Such  is  the  truth,  and  I  have 
no  reason  to  make  their  disgrace  known.  Besides,  if 
I  proclaimed  it  from  the  house-tops,  no  one  would 
believe  me.  But  you  are  my  son,  and  I  owe  you  the 
truth,  the  whole  truth  !  " 

In  any  age  but  the  present,  Madame  d'Argelès's 
story  would  have  seemed  absolutely  incredible.  Now- 
adays, however,  such  episodes  are  by  no  means  rare. 
Two  men — two  men  of  exalted  rank  and  highly  re- 
spected, to  use  a  common  expression — associate  in 
opening  a  gaming-house  under  the  very  eyes  of  the 
police,  and  in  coining  money  out  of  a  woman's  sup- 
posed disgrace.  'Tis  after  all  but  an  everyday  oc- 
currence. 

The  unhappy  woman  had  told  her  story  with  appar- 
ent coldness,  and  yet,  in  her  secret  heart,  she  perhaps 
hoped  that  by  disclosing  her  terrible  sacrifice  and  long 
martyrdom,  she  would  draw  a  burst  of  gratitude  and 
tenderness  from  her  son,  calculated  to  repay  her  for  all 
her  sufferings.  But  the  hope  was  vain.  It  would  have 
been  easier  to  draw  water  from  a  solid  rock  than  to 
extract  a  sympathetic  tear  from  Wilkie's  eyes.  He  was 
only  alive  to  the  practical  side  of  this  narrative,  and 
what  impressed  him  most  was  the  impudent  assurance 
of  Madame  d'Argelès's  business  associates.  "  Not  a 
bad  idea;  not  bad  at  all,"  he  exclaimed.  And,  boiling 
over  with  curiosity,  he  continued  :  ''  I  would  give  some- 
thing handsome  to  know  those  men's  names.     Really 


316     BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

you  ought  to  tell  me.  It  would  be  worth  one's  while 
to  know." 

Any  other  person  than  this  interesting  young  man 
would  have  been  crushed  by  the  look  his  mother  gave 
him — a  look  embodying  the  deepest  disappointment  and 
contempt.  "  I  think  you  must  be  mad,"  she  remarked 
coldly.  And  as  he  sprang  up,  astonished  that  any  one 
should  doubt  his  abundant  supply  of  good  sense,  "  Let 
us  put  an  end  to  this,"  she  sternly  added. 

Thereupon  she  hastily  went  into  the  adjoining  room, 
reappearing  a  moment  later  with  a  roll  of  papers  in  her 
hand.  "  Here,"  she  remarked,  "  is  my  marriage  certifi- 
cate, your  certificate  of  birth,  and  a  copy  of  my  re- 
nunciation— a  perfectly  valid  document,  since  the  court 
has  authorized  it,  owing  to  my  husband's  absence.  All 
these  proofs  I  am  ready  and  willing  to  place  at  your 
disposal,  but  on  one  condition." 

This  last  word  fell  like  a  cold  shower-bath  upon 
Wilkie's  exultant  joy.  "What  is  this  condition?"  he 
anxiously  inquired. 

"  It  is  that  you  should  sign  this  deed,  which  has  been 
drawn  up  by  my  notary — a  deed  by  which  you  pledge 
yourself  to  hand  me  the  sum  of  two  million  francs  on 
the  day  you  come  into  possession  of  the  Chalusse 
property." 

Two  millions  !  The  immensity  of  the  sum  struck 
Wilkie  dumb  with  consternation.  Nor  did  he  forget 
that  he  would  be  compelled  to  give  the  Viscount  de 
Coralth  the  large  reward  he  had  promised  him — a  re- 
ward promised  in  writing,  unfortunately.  "  I  shall 
have  nothing  left,"  he  began,  piteously. 

But  with  a  disdainful  gesture  Madame  d'Argelès  in- 
terrupted him.  "  Set  your  mind  at  rest,"  said  she. 
"  You  will  still  be  immensely  rich.     All  the  estimates 


BARON   TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE     317 

which  have  been  made  are  far  below  the  mark.  When 
I  was  a  girl  I  often  heard  my  father  say  that  his 
income  amounted  to  more  than  eight  hundred  thousand 
francs  a  year.  My  brother  inherited  the  whole  prop- 
erty, and  I  would  be  willing  to  swear  that  he  never 
spent  more  than  half  of  his  income." 

Wilkie's  nerves  had  never  been  subjected  to  so 
severe  a  shock.  He  tottered  and  his  brain  whirled. 
"  Oh  !  oh  !  "  he  stammered.  This  was  all  he  could  say. 
"  Only  I  must  warn  you  of  a  more  than  probable 
deception,"  pursued  Madame  d'Argelès.  "  As  my 
brother  was  firmly  resolved  to  deprive  me  even  of  my 
rightful  portion  of  the  estate,  he  concealed  his  fortune 
in  every  possible  way.  It  will  undoubtedly  require 
considerable  time  and  trouble  to  gain  possession  of  the 
whole.  However  I  know  a  man,  formerly  the  Count 
de  Chalusse's  confidential  agent,  who  might  aid  you  in 
this  task." 

"And  this  man's  name?" 

"  Is  Isidore  Fortunat.  I  saved  his  card  for  you. 
Here  it  is." 

M.  Wilkie  took  it  up,  placed  it  carefully  in  his  pocket, 
and  then  exclaimed  :  "  That  being  the  case,  I  consent 
to  sign,  but  after  this  you  need  not  complain.  Two 
millions  at  five  per  cent,  ought  to  greatly  alleviate  one's 
sufferings." 

Madame  d'Argelès  did  not  deign  to  notice  this  deli- 
cate irony.  "  I  will  tell  you  in  advance  to  what  purpose 
I  intend  to  apply  this  sum,"  she  said. 

"  Ah  !  " 

"  I  intend  one  of  these  two  millions  to  serve  as  the 
dowry  of  a  young  girl  who  would  have  been  the  Count 
de  Chalusse's  sole  legatee,  if  his  death  had  not  been 
so  sudden  and  so  unexpected." 


318    BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

"  And  the  other  one  ?  " 

"  The  other  I  intend  to  invest  for  you  in  such  a  way 
that  you  can  only  touch  the  interest  of  it,  so  that  you 
will  not  want  for  bread  after  you  have  squandered  your 
inlieritancc,  even  to  the  very  last  penny." 

This  wise  precaution  could  not  fail  to  shock  such  a 
brilliant  young  man  as  M.  Wilkie.  "  Do  you  take  me 
for  a  fool?  "  he  exclaimed.  "  I  may  appear  very  gen- 
erous, but  I  am  shrewd  enough,  never  you  fear." 

"  Sign,"  interrupted  Madame  d'Argelès,  coldly. 

But  he  attempted  to  prove  that  he  was  no  fool  by 
reading  and  re-reading  the  contract  before  he  would 
consent  to  append  his  name  to  it.  At  last,  however,  he 
did  so,  and  stowed  away  the  proofs  which  insured  him 
the  much-coveted  property. 

"  Now,"  said  Madame  d'Argelès,  "  I  have  one  re- 
quest to  make  of  you.  Whenever  your  father  makes 
his  appearance  and  lays  claim  to  this  fortune,  I  entreat 
you  to  avoid  a  lawsuit,  which  would  only  make  your 
mother's  shame  and  the  disgrace  attached  to  the  hither- 
to stainless  name  of  Chalusse  still  more  widely  known. 
Compromise  with  him.  You  will  be  rich  enough  to 
satisfy  his  greed  without  feeling  it." 

M.  Wilkie  remained  silent  for  a  moment,  as  if  he 
were  deliberating  upon  the  course  he  ought  to  pursue. 
"  If  my  father  is  reasonable,  I  will  be  the  same,"  he 
said  at  last.  "  I  will  choose  as  an  arbiter  between  us 
one  of  my  friends — a  man  who  acts  on  the  square,  like 
myself — the  Marquis  de  Valorsay." 

"  My  God  !  do  you  know  him?  " 

"  He  is  one  of  my  most  intimate  friends." 

Madame  d'Argelès  had  become  very  pale.  "Wretched 
boy  !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  You  don't  know  that  it's  the 
marquis "     She  paused  abruptly.     One  word  more 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE    319 

and  she  would  have  betrayed  Pascal  Ferailleur's  secret 
plans,  with  which  she  had  been  made  acquainted  by 
Baron  Trigault.  Had  she  a  right  to  do  this,  even  to 
put  her  son  on  his  guard  against  a  man  whom  she  con- 
sidered the  greatest  villain  in  the  world? 

"  Well?  "  insisted  M.  Wilkie,  in  surprise. 

But  Madame  d'Argelès  had  recovered  her  self-pos- 
session. "  I  only  wished  to  warn  you  against  too  close 
a  connection  with  the  Marquis  de  Valorsay.  He  has 
an  excellent  position  in  society,  but  yours  will  be  far 
more  brilliant.  His  star  is  on  the  wane;  yours  is  just 
rising.  All  that  he  is  regretting,  you  have  a  right  to 
hope  for.  Perhaps  even  now  he  is  jealous  of  you,  and 
wishes  to  persuade  you  to  take  some  false  step." 

"  Ah  !  you  little  know  him  !  " 

"  I  have  warned  you." 

M.  Wilkie  took  up  his  hat,  but,  though  he  was  long- 
ing to  depart,  embarrassment  kept  him  to  the  spot.  He 
vaguely  felt  that  he  ought  not  to  leave  his  mother  in 
this  style.  "  I  hope  I  shall  soon  have  some  good  news 
to  bring  you,"  he  began. 

"  Before  night  I  shall  have  left  this  house,"  she 
answered. 

"  Of  course.  But  you  are  going  to  give  me  your  new 
address." 

"  No." 

"What?— No!" 

She  shook  her  head  sadly,  and  in  a  scarcely  audible 
voice  responded  :  "  It  is  not  likely  that  we  shall  meet 
again." 

"  And  the  two  millions  that  I  am  to  turn  over  to 
you?" 

"  Mr.  Patterson  will  collect  the  money.  As  for  me, 
say  to  yourself  that  I'm  dead.     You  have  broken  the 


320     BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

only  link  that  bound  me  to  life,  by  proving  the  futility 
of  the  most  terrible  sacrifices.  However,  I  am  a 
mother,  and  I  forgive  you."  Then  as  he  did  not  move, 
and  as  she  felt  that  her  strength  was  deserting  her, 
she  dragged  herself  from  the  room,  murmuring, 
"Farewell!" 


XVI. 

Stupefied  with  astonishment,  M.  Wilkie  stood  for  a 
moment  silent  and  motionless.  "  Allow  me,"  he  fal- 
tered at  last;  "allow  me — I  wish  to  explain."  But 
Madame  d'Argelès  did  not  even  turn  her  head  ;  the  door 
closed  behind  her  and  he  was  left  alone. 

However  strong  a  man's  nature  may  be,  he  always 
has  certain  moments  of  weakness.  For  instance,  at 
the  present  moment  Wilkie  was  completely  at  a  loss 
what  to  do.  Not  that  he  repented,  he  was  incapable 
of  that;  but  there  are  hours  when  the  most  hardened 
conscience  is  touched,  and  when  long  dormant  instincts 
at  last  assert  their  rights.  If  he  had  obeyed  his  first 
impulse,  he  would  have  darted  after  his  mother  and 
thrown  himself  on  his  knees  before  her.  But  reflection, 
remembrance  of  the  Viscount  de  Coralth,  and  the  Mar- 
quis de  Valorsay,  made  him  silent  the  noblest  voice  that 
had  spoken  in  his  soul  for  many  a  long  day.  So,  with 
his  head  proudly  erect,  he  went  off,  twirling  his  mus- 
taches and  followed  by  the  whispers  of  the  servants — 
whispers  which  were  ready  to  change  into  hisses  at  any 
moment. 

But  what  did  he  care  for  the  opinion  of  these  ple- 
beians !  Before  he  was  a  hundred  paces  from  the  house 
his  emotion  had  vanished,  and  he  was  thinking  how  he 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE     321 

could  most  agreeably  spend  the  time  until  the  hour 
appointed  for  his  second  interview  with  M.  de  Valor- 
say.  He  had  not  breakfasted,  but  "  his  stomach  was 
out  of  sorts,"  as  he  said  to  himself,  and  it  would  really 
have  been  impossible  for  him  to  swallow  a  morsel. 
Thus  not  caring  to  return  home,  he  started  in  quest  of 
one  of  his  former  intimates,  with  the  generous  intention 
of  overpowering  him  with  the  great  news.  Unfor- 
tunately he  failed  to  find  this  friend,  and  eager  to  vent 
the  pride  that  was  suffocating  him,  in  some  way  or 
other,  he  entered  the  shop  of  an  engraver,  whom  he 
crushed  by  his  importance,  and  ordered  some  visiting 
cards  bearing  the  inscription  W.  de  Gordon-Chalusse, 
with  a  count's  coronet  in  one  of  the  corners. 

Thus  occupied,  time  flew  by  so  quickly  that  he  was  a 
trifle  late  in  keeping  his  appointment  with  his  dear 
friend  the  marquis.  Wilkie  found  M,  de  Valorsay  as 
he  had  left  him — in  his  smoking-room,  talking  with  the 
Viscount  de  Coralth.  Not  that  the  marquis  had  been 
idle,  but  it  had  barely  taken  him  an  hour  to  set  in 
motion  the  machinery  which  he  had  had  in  complete 
readiness  since  the  evening  before.  "  Victory  !  "  cried 
Wilkie,  as  he  appeared  on  the  threshold.  "  It  was  a 
hard  battle,  but  I  asserted  my  rights.  I  am  the  acknowl- 
edged heir  !  the  millions  are  mine  !  "  And  without 
giving  his  friends  time  to  congratulate  him,  he  began 
to  describe  his  interview  with  Aladame  d'Argelès,  pre- 
senting his  conduct  in  the  most  odious  light  possible, 
pretending  he  had  indulged  in  all  sorts  of  harsh  re- 
joinders, and  making  himself  out  to  be  "  a  man  of 
bronze,"  or  "  a  block  of  marble,"  as  he  said. 

"  You  are  certainly  more  courageous  than  I  fancied," 
said  M.  de  Valorsay  gravely,  when  the  narrative  was 
ended. 


322     BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

"  Is  that  really  so  ?  " 

"  It  is,  indeed.  Now  the  world  is  before  you.  Let 
your  story  be  noised  abroad — and  it  will  be  noised 
abroad — and  you  will  become  a  hero.  Imagine  the 
amazement  of  Paris  when  it  learns  that  Lia  d'Argclès 
was  a  virtuous  woman,  who  sacrificed  her  reputation 
for  the  sake  of  her  son — a  martyr,  whose  disgrace  was 
only  a  shameful  falsehood  invented  by  two  men  of  rank 
to  increase  the  attractions  of  their  gambling-den  !  It 
will  take  the  newspapers  a  month  to  digest  this  strange 
romance.  And  whom  will  all  this  notoriety  fall  upon? 
Upon  you,  my  dear  sir;  and  as  your  millions  will  lend 
an  additional  charm  to  the  romance,  you  will  become 
the  lion  of  the  season." 

M.  Wilkie  was  really  too  much  overwhelmed  to 
feel  elated.  "  Upon  my  word,  you  overpower  me, 
my  dear  marquis — you  quite  overpower  me,"  he  stam- 
mered. 

"  I  too  have  been  at  work,"  resumed  the  marquis. 
"  And  I  have  made  numerous  inquiries,  in  accordance 
with  my  promise.  I  almost  regret  it,  for  what  I  have 
discovered  is — very  singular,  to  say  the  least.  I  was 
just  saying  so  to  Coralth  when  you  came  in.  What  I 
have  learned  makes  it  extremely  unpleasant  for  me,  to 
find  myself  mixed  up  in  the  affair  ;  accordingly,  I  have 
requested  the  persons  who  gave  me  this  information  to 
call  here.  You  shall  hear  their  story,  and  then  you 
must  decide  for  yourself."  So  saying,  he  rang  the  bell, 
and  as  soon  as  a  servant  answered  the  summons,  he 
exclaimed  :  "  Show  M.  Casimir  in." 

When  the  lackey  had  retired  to  carry  out  this  order, 
the  marquis  remarked  :  "  Casimir  was  the  deceased 
count's  valet.  He  is  a  clever  fellow,  honest,  intelligent, 
and  well  up  in  his  business — such  a  man  as  you  will 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE     323 

need,  in  fact,  and  I  won't  try  to  conceal  the  fact  that 
the  hope  of  entering  your  service  has  aided  considerably 
in  unloosening  his  tongue." 

M.  Casimir,  who  was  irreproachably  clad  in  black, 
with  a  white  cambric  tie  round  his  neck,  entered  the 
room  at  this  very  moment,  smiling  and  bowing  obse- 
quiously. "  This  gentleman,  my  good  fellow,"  said  M. 
de  Valorsay,  pointing  to  Wilkie,  "  is  your  former  mas- 
ter's only  heir.  A  proof  of  devotion  might  induce  him 
to  keep  you  with  him.  What  you  told  me  a  little  while 
ago  is  of  great  importance  to  him;  see  if  you  can  re- 
peat it  now  for  his  benefit." 

In  his  anxiety  to  secure  a  good  situation,  M.  Casimir 
had  ventured  to  apply  to  the  Marquis  de  Valorsay;  he 
had  talked  a  good  deal,  and  the  marquis  had  conceived 
the  plan  of  making  him  an  unsuspecting  accomplice. 
"  I  never  deny  my  words,"  replied  the  valet,  "  and  since 
monsieur  is  the  heir  to  the  property,  I  won't  hesitate 
to  tell  him  that  immense  sums  have  been  stolen  from 
the  late  count's  estate." 

M.  Wilkie  bounded  from  his  chair.  "  Immense 
sums  !  "  he  exclaimed.     "  Is  it  possible  !  " 

"  Monsieur  shall  judge.  On  the  morning  preceding 
his  death,  the  count  had  more  than  two  millions  in  bank- 
notes and  bonds  stowed  away  in  his  escritoire,  but  when 
the  justice  of  the  peace  came  to  take  the  inventory,  the 
money  could  not  be  found.  We  servants  were  terribly 
alarmed,  for  we  feared  that  suspicion  would  fall  upon 
us." 

Ah  !  if  Wilkie  had  only  been  alone  he  would  have 
given  vent  to  his  true  feelings.  But  here,  under  the 
eyes  of  the  marquis  and  M.  de  Coralth,  he  felt  that  he 
must  maintain  an  air  of  stoical  indifference.  He  almost 
succeeded  in  doing  so,  and  in  a  tolerably  firm  voice  he 


324     BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

remarked  :  "  This  is  not  very  pleasant  news.  Two 
millions  !  that's  a  good  haul.  Tell  me,  my  friend,  have 
you  any  clue  to  the  thief?  " 

The  valet's  troubled  glance  betrayed  an  imeasy  con- 
science, but  he  had  gone  too  far  to  draw  back.  "  I 
shouldn't  like  to  accuse  an  innocent  person,"  he  replied, 
"  but  there  was  some  one  who  constantly  had  access  to 
that  escritoire." 

"  And  who  was  that  ?  " 

"  Mademoiselle  Marguerite." 

"  I  don't  know  the  lady." 

"  She's  a  young  girl  who  is — at  least  people  say — 
the  count's  illegitimate  daughter.  Her  word  was  law 
in  the  house." 

"What  has  become  of  her?" 

"  She  has  gone  to  live  with  General  de  Fondège,  one 
of  the  count's  friends.  She  wouldn't  take  her  jewels 
and  diamonds  away  with  her,  which  seemed  very 
strange,  for  they  are  worth  more  than  a  hundred  thou- 
sand francs.  Even  Bourigeau  said  to  me  :  '  That's  un- 
natural, M.  Casimir.'  Borigeau  is  the  concierge  of  the 
house,  a  very  worthy  man.  Monsieur  will  not  find  his 
equal." 

Unfortunately,  this  tribute  to  the  merits  of  the  valet's 
friend  was  interrupted  by  the  arrival  of  a  footman, 
who,  after  tapping  respectfully  at  the  door,  entered  the 
room  and  exclaimed  :  "  The  doctor  is  here,  and  desires 
to  speak  with  Monsieur  le  Marquis." 

"  Very  well,"  replied  M.  de  Valorsay,  "  ask  him  to 
wait.  When  I  ring,  you  can  usher  him  in."  Then 
addressing  M.  Casimir,  he  added  : 

"  You  may  retire  for  the  present,  but  don't  leave  the 
house.  M.  Wilkie  will  acquaint  you  with  his  inten- 
tions by  and  by." 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE    325 

The  valet  thereupon  backed  out  of  the  room,  bowing 
profoundly. 

"  There  is  a  story  for  you  !  "  exclaimed  M.  Wilkie  as 
soon  as  the  door  was  closed.  "  A  robbery  of  two 
millions  !  " 

The  marquis  shook  his  head,  and  remarked,  gravely: 
"  That's  a  mere  nothing.  I  suspect  something  far  more 
terrible." 

"  What,  pray  ?    Upon  my  word  !  you  frighten  me." 

"  Wait  !  I  may  be  mistaken.  Even  the  doctor  may 
be  deceived.  But  you  shall  judge  for  yourself."  As  he 
spoke,  he  pulled  the  bell-rope,  and  an  instant  after,  the 
servant  announced  :  "  Dr.  Jodon." 

It  was,  indeed,  the  same  physician  who  had  annoyed 
Mademoiselle  Marguerite  by  his  persistent  curiosity 
and  impertinent  questions,  at  the  Count  de  Chalusse's 
bedside  ;  the  same  crafty  and  ambitious  man,  constantly 
tormented  by  covetousness,  and  ready  to  do  anything 
to  gratify  it — the  man  of  the  period,  in  short,  who 
sacrificed  everything  to  the  display  by  which  he  hoped 
to  deceive  other  people,  and  who  was  almost  starving 
in  the  midst  of  his  mock  splendor. 

M.  Casimir  was  an  innocent  accomplice,  but  the  doc- 
tor knew  what  he  was  doing.  Interviewed  on  behalf 
of  the  Marquis  de  Valorsay  by  Madame  Léon,  he  had 
fathomed  the  whole  mystery  at  once.  These  two  crafty 
natures  had  read  and  understood  each  other.  No 
definite  words  had  passed  between  them — they  were 
both  too  shrewd  for  that  ;  and  yet,  a  compact  had  been 
concluded  by  which  each  had  tacitly  agreed  to  serve 
the  other  according  to  his  need. 

As  soon  as  the  physician  appeared,  M.  de  Valorsay 
rose  and  shook  hands  with  him;  then,  offering  him  an 
arm-chair,  he  remarked  :  "  I  will  not  conceal  from  you, 


326     BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

doctor,  that  I  have  in  some  measure  prepared  this  gen- 
tleman " — designating  M.  Wilkie — "  for  your  terrible 
revelation." 

By  the  doctor's  attitude,  a  keen  observer  might  have 
divined  the  secret  trepidation  that  always  precedes  a 
bad  action  which  has  been  conceived  and  decided  upon 
in  cold  blood. 

"  To  tell  the  truth,"  he  began,  speaking  slowly,  and 
with  some  difficulty,  "  now  that  the  moment  for  speak- 
ing has  come,  I  almost  hesitate.  Our  profession  has 
painful  exigencies.  Perhaps  it  is  now  too  late.  If 
there  had  been  any  of  the  count's  relatives  in  the  house, 
or  even  an  heir  at  the  time,  I  should  have  insisted  upon 
an  autopsy.     But  now " 

On  hearing  the  word  "  autopsy,"  M.  Wilkie  looked 
round  with  startled  eyes.  He  opened  his  lips  to  in- 
terrupt the  speaker,  but  the  physician  had  already  re- 
sumed his  narrative.  "  Besides,  I  had  only  suspicions," 
he  said,  "  suspicions  based,  it  is  true,  upon  strange  and 
alarming  circumstances.  I  am  a  man,  that  is  to  say, 
I  am  liable  to  error.  In  the  kingdom  of  science  it 
would  be  unpardonable  temerity  on  my  part  to 
affirm " 

"To  affirm  what?"  interrupted  M.  Wilkie. 

The  physician  did  not  seem  to  hear  him,  but  con- 
tinued in  the  same  dogmatic  tone.  *'  The  count  appar- 
ently died  from  an  attack  of  apoplexy,  but  certain 
poisons  produce  similar  and  even  identical  symptoms 
which  are  apt  to  deceive  the  most  experienced  medical 
men.  The  persistent  eflforts  of  the  count's  intellect,  his 
muscular  rigidity  alternating  with  utter  relaxation,  the 
dilation  of  the  pupils  of  his  eyes,  and  more  than  aught 
else  the  violence  of  his  last  convulsions,  have  led  me  to 
ask  myself  if  some  criminal  had  not  hastened  his  end." 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE     327 

Whiter  than  his  shirt,  and  trembling  like  a  leaf, 
M.  Wilkie  sprang  from  his  chair.  "  I  under- 
stand !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  The  count  was  murdered — • 
poisoned." 

But  the  physician  replied  with  an  energetic  protest. 
"  Oh,  not  so  fast  !  "  said  he.  "  Don't  mistake  my  con- 
jectures for  assertions.  Still,  I  ought  not  to  conceal 
the  circumstances  which  awakened  my  suspicions.  On 
the  morning  preceding  his  attack,  the  count  took  two 
spoonfuls  of  the  contents  of  a  vial  which  the  people  in 
charge  could  not  or  would  not  produce.  When  I  asked 
what  this  vial  contained,  the  answer  was  :  '  A  medicine 
to  prevent  apoplexy.'  I  don't  say  that  this  is  false,  but 
prove  it.  As  for  the  motive  that  led  to  the  crime,  it  is 
apparent  at  once.  The  escritoire  contained  two  millions 
of  francs,  and  the  money  has  disappeared.  Show  me 
the  vial,  find  the  money,  and  I  wall  admit  that  I  am 
wrong.     But  until  then,  I  shall  have  my  suspicions." 

He  did  not  speak  like  a  physician  but  like  an  exam- 
ining magistrate,  and  his  alarming  deductions  found 
their  way  even  to  M.  Wilkie's  dull  brain.  "  Who  could 
have  committed  the  crime?"  he  asked. 

"  It  could  only  have  been  the  person  likely  to  profit 
by  it  ;  and  only  one  person  besides  the  count  knew  that 
the  money  was  in  the  house,  and  had  possession  of  the 
key  of  this  escritoire." 

"  And  this  person  ?  " 

"  Is  the  count's  illegitimate  daughter,  who  lived  in 
the  house  with  him — Mademoiselle  Marguerite." 

M.  Wilkie  sank  into  his  chair  again,  completely 
overwhelmed.  The  coincidence  between  the  doctor's 
deposition  and  M.  Casimir's  testimony  was  too  remark- 
able to  pass  unnoticed.  Further  doubt  seemed  impossi- 
ble.   "  Ah  !  this  is  most  unfortunate  !  "  faltered  Wilkie. 


328    BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

"  What  a  pity  !  Such  difficulties  never  assail  any  one 
but  me!  What  am  I  to  do?  "  And  in  his  distress  he 
glanced  from  the  doctor  to  the  Marquis  de  Valorsay, 
and  then  at  M.  de  Coralth,  as  if  seeking  inspiration 
from  each  of  them. 

"  My  profession  forbids  my  acting  as  an  adviser  in 
such  cases,"  replied  the  physician,  "  but  these  gentle- 
men have  not  the  same  reasons  for  keeping  silent." 

"  Excuse  me,"  interrupted  the  marquis  quickly  ;  "  but 
this  is  one  of  those  cases  in  which  a  man  must  be  left 
to  his  own  inspirations.  The  most  I  can  do,  is  to  say 
what  course  I  should  pursue  if  I  were  one  of  the  de- 
ceased count's  relatives  or  heirs." 

"  Pray  tell  me,  my  dear  marquis,"  sighed  Wilkie. 
"  You  would  render  me  an  immense  service  by  doing 
so. 

M.  de  Valorsay  seemed  to  reflect  for  a  moment  ;  and 
then  he  solemnly  exclaimed  :  "  I  should  feel  that  my 
honor  required  me  to  investigate  every  circumstance 
connected  with  this  mysterious  affair.  Before  receiving 
a  man's  estate,  one  must  know  the  cause  of  his  death, 
so  as  to  avenge  him  if  he  has  been  foully  murdered." 

For  M.  Wilkie  the  oracle  had  spoken.  "  Such  is  my 
opinion  exactly,"  he  declared.  "  But  what  course  would 
you  pursue,  my  dear  marquis?  How  would  you  set 
about  solving  this  mystery?" 

"  I  should  appeal  to  the  authorities." 

"  Ah  !  " 

"  And  this  very  day,  this  very  hour,  without  losing 
a  second,  I  should  address  a  communication  to  the  pub- 
lic prosecutor,  informing  him  of  the  robbery  which  is 
patent  to  any  one,  and  referring  to  the  possibility  of 
foul  play." 

"  Yes,  that  would  be  an  excellent  idea  ;  but  there  is 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE    329 

one  slight  drawback — I  don't  know  how  to  draw  up 
such  a  communication." 

"  I  know  no  more  about  it  than  you  do  yourself;  but 
any  lawyer  or  notary  will  give  you  the  necessary  in- 
formation. Are  you  acquainted  with  any  such  person? 
Would  you  like  me  to  give  you  the  address  of  my  busi- 
ness man?  He  is  a  very  clever  fellow,  who  has  almost 
all  the  members  of  my  club  as  his  clients." 

This  last  reason  was  more  than  sufficient  to  fix  M. 
Wilkie's  choice.  "Where  can  I  find  him?"  he  in- 
quired. 

"  At  his  house — he  is  always  there  at  this  hour. 
Come  !  here  is  a  scrap  of  paper  and  a  pencil.  You  had 
better  make  a  note  of  his  address.  Write  :  'Maumèjan, 
Route  de  la  Révolte.'  Tell  him  that  I  sent  you,  and 
he  will  treat  you  with  the  same  consideration  as  he 
would  show  to  me.  He  lives  a  long  way  ofif,  but  my 
brougham  is  standing  in  the  courtyard;  so  take  it,  and 
when  your  consultation  is  over,  come  back  and  dine 
with  me." 

"  Ah  !  you  are  too  kind  !  "  exclaimed  M.  Wilkie. 
"  You  overpower  me,  my  dear  marquis,  you  do,  upon 
my  word  !     I  shall  fly  and  be  back  in  a  moment." 

He  went  ofif  looking  radiant  ;  and  a  moment  later  the 
carriage  which  was  to  take  him  to  M.  Mauméjan's  was 
heard  rolling  out  of  the  courtyard. 

The  doctor  had  already  taken  up  his  hat  and  cane. 
"  You  will  excuse  me  for  leaving  you  so  abruptly,  Mon- 
sieur le  Marquis,"  said  he,  "  but  I  have  an  engagement 
to  discuss  a  business  matter." 

"  Indeed  !  " 

"  I  am  negotiating  for  the  purchase  of  a  dentist's 
establishment." 

"What,  you?" 


330     BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

"  Yes,  I.  You  may  tell  me  that  this  is  a  downfall, 
but  I  will  answer,  '  It  will  give  me  a  living.'  Medicine 
is  becoming  a  more  and  more  unremunerative  profes- 
sion. However  hard  a  physician  may  work,  he  can 
scarcely  pay  for  the  water  he  uses  in  washing  his  hands, 
I  have  an  opportunity  of  purchasing  the  business  of  a 
well-established  and  well-known  dentist,  in  an  excellent 
neighborhood.  Why  not  avail  myself  of  it?  Only  one 
thing  worries  me — the  lack  of  funds." 

The  marquis  had  expected  the  doctor  would  require 
remuneration  for  his  services.  Before  compromising 
himself  any  further,  M.  Jodon  wished  to  know  what 
compensation  he  was  to  receive.  The  marquis  was  so 
sure  of  this,  that  he  quickly  exclaimed  :  "  Ah,  my  dear 
doctor,  if  you  have  need  of  twenty  thousand  francs,  I 
shall  be  only  too  happy  to  offer  them  to  you." 

"Really?" 

"  Upon  my  honor  !  " 

"  And  when  can  you  let  me  have  the  money?  " 

"  In  three  or  four  days'  time." 

The  bargain  was  concluded.  The  doctor  was  now 
ready  to  find  traces  of  any  poison  whatsoever  in  the 
Count  de  Chalusse's  exhumed  remains.  He  pressed 
the  marquis's  hand  and  then  went  oflf,  exclaiming: 
"  Whatever  happens  you  can  count  upon  me." 

Left  alone  with  the  Viscount  de  Coralth,  and  conse- 
quently freed  from  all  restraint,  M.  de  Valorsay  rose 
with  a  long-drawn  sigh  of  relief.  "  What  an  inter- 
minable séance!"  he  growled.  And,  approaching  his 
acolyte,  who  was  sitting  silent  and  motionless  in  an 
arm-chair,  he  slapped  him  on  the  shoulder,  exclaiming: 
"  Are  you  ill  that  you  sit  there  like  that,  as  still  as  a 
mummy?  " 

The  viscount   turned   as   if  he   had  been   suddenly 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE     331 

aroused  from  slumber.  "  I'm  well  enough,"  he  an- 
swered somewhat  roughly.     "  I  was  only  thinking." 

"  Your  thoughts  are  not  very  pleasant,  to  judge  from 
the  look  on  your  face." 

"  No.  I  was  thinking  of  the  fate  that  you  are  pre- 
paring for  us." 

"  Oh  !  A  truce  to  disagreeable  prophecies,  please  ! 
Besides,  it's  too  late  to  draw  back,  or  to  even  think  of 
retreat.    The  Rubicon  is  passed." 

"  Alas  !  that  is  the  cause  of  my  anxiety.  If  it  hadn't 
been  for  my  wretched  past,  which  you  have  threatened 
me  with  like  a  dagger,  I  should  long  ago  have  left  you 
to  incur  this  danger  alone.  You  were  useful  to  me  in 
times  past,  I  admit.  You  presented  me  to  the  Baroness 
Trigault,  to  whose  patronage  I  owe  my  present  means, 
but  I  am  paying  too  dearly  for  your  services  in  allow- 
ing myself  to  be  made  the  instrument  of  your  danger- 
ous schemes.  Who  aided  you  in  defrauding  Kami- 
Bey?  Who  bet  for  you  against  your  own  horse  Do- 
mingo? Who  risked  his  life  in  slipping  those  cards  in 
the  pack  which  Pascal  Ferailleur  held?  It  was  Coralth, 
always  Coralth." 

A  gesture  of  anger  escaped  the  marquis,  but  resolv- 
ing to  restrain  himself,  he  made  no  rejoinder.  It  was 
not  until  after  he  had  walked  five  or  six  times  round 
the  smoking-room  and  grown  more  calm  that  he  re- 
turned to  the  viscount's  side.  "  Really,  I  don't  recog- 
nize you,"  he  began.  "  Is  it  really  you  who  have  turned 
coward  ?  And  at  what  a  moment,  pray  ?  Why,  on  the 
very  eve  of  success." 

"  I  wish  I  could  believe  you." 

"  Facts  shall  convince  you.  This  morning  I  might 
have  doubted,  but  now,  thanks  to  that  vain  idiot  who 
goes  by  the  name  of    Wilkie,  I  am    sure,    perfectly. 


332     BARON   TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

mathematically  sure  of  success.  Mauméjan,  who  is  en. 
tirely  devoted  to  me,  and  who  is  the  greediest,  most 
avaricious  scoundrel  alive,  will  draw  up  such  a  com- 
plaint that  Marguerite  will  sleep  in  prison.  Moreover, 
other  witnesses  will  be  summoned.  By  what  Casimir 
has  said,  you  can  judge  what  the  other  servants  will 
say.  This  testimony  will  be  sufficient  to  convict  her  of 
the  robbery.  As  for  the  poisoning,  you  heard  Dr. 
Jodon.  Can  I  depend  upon  him?  Evidently,  if  I  pay 
without  haggling.    Very  well  ;  I  shall  pay." 

But  all  this  did  not  reassure  M.  de  Coralth.  "  The 
accusation  will  fall  to  the  ground,"  said  he,  "  as  soon 
as  the  famous  vial  from  which  M.  de  Chalusse  took  two 
spoonfuls  is  found." 

"  Excuse  me  ;  it  won't  be  found." 

"But  why?" 

"  Because  I  know  where  it  is,  my  dear  friend.  It  is 
in  the  count's  escritoire,  but  it  won't  be  there  any  longer 
on  the  day  after  to-morrow." 

"  Who  will  remove  it  ?  " 

"  A  skilful  fellow  whom  Madame  Léon  has  found  for 
me.  Everything  has  been  carefully  arranged.  To- 
morrow night  at  the  latest  Madame  Léon  will  let  this 
man  into  the  Hôtel  de  Chalusse  by  the  garden  gate, 
which  she  has  kept  the  key  of.  Vantrasson,  as  the  man 
is  called,  knows  the  management  of  the  house,  and  he 
will  break  open  the  escritoire  and  take  the  vial  away. 
You  may  say  that  there  are  seals  upon  the  furniture, 
placed  there  by  the  justice  of  the  peace.  That's  true, 
but  this  man  tells  me  that  he  can  remove  and  replace 
them  in  such  a  way  as  to  defy  detection;  and  as  the 
lock  has  been  forced  once  already — the  day  after  the 
count's  death — a  second  attempt  to  break  the  escri- 
toire open  will  not  be  detected." 


BARON   TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE    333 

The  viscount  remarked,  with  an  ironical  air  :  "  All 
that  is  perfect;  but  the  autopsy  will  reveal  the  falseness 
of  the  accusation." 

"  Naturally — but  an  autopsy  will  require  time,  and 
that  will  suit  my  plans  admirably.  After  eight  or  ten 
days'  solitary  confinement  and  several  rigid  examina- 
tions, Mademoiselle  Marguerite's  energy  and  courage 
will  flag.  What  do  you  think  she  will  reply  to  the  man 
who  says  to  her  :  '  I  love  you,  and  for  your  sake  I  will 
attempt  the  impossible.  Swear  to  become  my  wife  and 
I  will  establish  your  innocence?'" 

"  I  think  she  will  say  :  '  Save  me  and  I  will  marry 
you  !  '  " 

M.  de  Valorsay  clapped  his  hands.  "  Bravo  !  "  he  ex- 
claimed ;  "  you  have  spoken  the  truth.  Remember, 
now,  that  your  dark  forebodings  are  only  chimeras  ! 
Yes,  she  will  swear  it,  and  I  know  she  is  the  woman  to 
keep  her  vow,  even  if  she  died  of  sorrow.  And  the 
very  next  day  I  will  go  to  the  examining  magistrate 
and  say  to  him  :  '  Marguerite  a  thief  !  Ah,  what  a 
frightful  mistake.  A  robbery  has  been  committed,  it's 
true;  but  I  know  the  real  culprit — a  scoundrel  who 
fancied  that  by  destroying  a  single  letter  he  would  an- 
nihilate all  traces  of  the  breach  of  fidelity  he  had  com- 
mitted. Fortunately,  the  Count  de  Chalusse  distrusted 
this  man,  and  proof  of  his  breach  of  trust  is  in  ex- 
istence. I  have  this  proof  in  my  hands.'  And  I  will 
show  a  letter  establishing  the  truth  of  my  assertion." 

No  forebodings  clouded  the  marquis's  joy  ;  he  saw 
no  obstacles  ;  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  he  had  already  tri- 
umphed. "  And  the  day  following,"  he  resumed, 
"  when  Marguerite  becomes  my  wife,  I  shall  take  from 
a  certain  drawer  a  certain  document,  given  to  me  by 
M.  de  Chalusse  when  I  was  on  the  point  of  becoming 


334     BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

his  son-in-law,  and  in  which  he  recognizes  Marguerite 
as  his  daughter,  and  makes  her  his  sole  legatee.  And 
this  document  is  perfectly  en  regie,  and  unattackable. 
Mauméjan,  who  has  examined  it,  guarantees  that  the 
value  of  the  count's  estate  cannot  be  less  than  ten  mil- 
lions. Five  will  go  to  Madame  d'Argelès,  or  her  son 
Wilkie,  as  their  share  of  the  property.  The  remaining 
five  will  be  mine.  Come,  confess  that  the  plan  is  ad- 
mirable !  " 

"Admirable,  undoubtedly;  but  terribly  complicated. 
When  there  are  so  many  wheels  within  wheels,  one  of 
them  is  always  sure  to  get  out  of  order." 

"  Nonsense  !  " 

"  Besides,  you  have  I  don't  know  how  many  accom- 
plices— Mauméjan,  the  doctor,  Madame  Léon,  and 
Vantrasson,  not  counting  myself.  Will  all  these  people 
perform  their  duties  satisfactorily?" 

"  Each  of  them  is  as  much  interested  in  my  success 
as  I  am  myself." 

"  But  we  have  enemies — Madame  d'Argelès,  For- 
tunat " 

"  Madame  d'Argelès  is  about  to  leave  Paris.  If  For- 
tunat  is  troublesome  I  will  purchase  his  silence;  Mau- 
méjan has  promised  me  money." 

But  M.  de  Coralth  had  kept  his  strongest  argument 
until  the  last.  "  And  Pascal  Ferailleur  ?  "  said  he, 
"  You  have  forgotten  him." 

No  ;  M.  de  Valorsay  had  not  forgotten  him.  You  do 
not  forget  the  man  you  have  ruined  and  dishonored. 
Still,  it  was  in  a  careless  tone  that  ill  accorded  with  his 
state  of  mind  that  the  marquis  replied  :  "  The  poor  devil 
must  be  en  route  for  America  by  this  time." 

The  viscount  shook  his  head.  "  That's  what  I've  in 
vain  been  trying  to  convince  myself  of,"  said  he.    "  Do 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE     335 

you  know  that  Pascal  was  virtually  expelled  from  the 
Palais  de  Justice,  and  that  his  name  has  been  struck 
off  the  list  of  advocates?  If  he  hasn't  blown  his  brains 
out,  it  is  only  because  he  hopes  to  prove  his  innocence. 
Ah  !  if  you  knew  him  as  well  as  I  do,  you  wouldn't  be 
so  tranquil  in  mind  !  " 

He  stopped  short  for  the  door  had  suddenly  opened. 
The  interruption  made  the  marquis  frown,  but  anger 
gave  way  to  anxiety  when  he  perceived  Madame  Léon, 
who  entered  the  room  out  of  breath  and  extremely  red 
in  the  face. 

"  There  wasn't  a  cab  to  be  had  !  "  she  groaned.  "Just 
my  luck.  I  came  on  foot,  and  ran  the  whole  way.  I'm 
utterly  exhausted  ;  "  and  so  saying,  she  sank  into  an 
arm-chair. 

M.  de  Valorsay  had  turned  very  pale.  "  Defer  your 
complaints  until  another  time,"  he  said,  harshly. 
"  What  has  happened?    Tell  me." 

The  estimable  woman  raised  her  hands  to  heaven,  as 
she  plaintively  replied  :  "  There  is  so  much  to  tell  ? 
First,  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  has  written  two  letters, 
but  I  have  failed  to  discover  to  whom  they  were  sent. 
Secondly,  she  remained  for  more  than  an  hour  yester- 
day evening  in  the  drawing-room  with  the  General's 
son.  Lieutenant  Gustave,  and,  on  parting,  they  shook 
hands  like  a  couple  of  friends,  and  said,  *  It  is 
agreed.'  " 

"And  is  that  all?" 

"  One  moment  and  you'll  see.  This  morning  Made- 
moiselle went  out  with  Madame  de  Fondège  to  call  on 
the  Baroness  Trigault.  I  do  not  know  what  took  place 
there,  but  there  must  have  been  a  terrible  scene;  for 
they  brought  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  back  uncon- 
scious, in  one  of  the  baron's  carriages." 


336    BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

"Do  you  hear  that,  viscount?"  exclaimed  M.  de 
Valorsay. 

"  Yes  !  You  shall  have  the  explanation  to-morrow," 
answered  M.  de  Coral  th. 

"  And  last,  but  not  least,"  resumed  Madame  Léon, 
"  on  returning  home  this  evening  at  about  five  o'clock, 
I  fancied  I  saw  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  leave  the 
house  and  go  up  the  Rue  Pigalle.  I  had  thought  she 
was  ill  and  in  bed,  and  I  said  to  myself,  *  This  is  very 
strange.'  So  I  hastened  after  her.  It  was  indeed  she. 
Of  course,  I  followed  her.  And  what  did  I  see?  Why, 
Mademoiselle  paused  to  talk  with  a  vagabond,  clad  in 
a  blouse.  They  exchanged  notes,  and  Mademoiselle 
Marguerite  returned  home.  And  here  I  am.  She  must 
certainly  suspect  something.     What  is  to  be  done?" 

If  M.  de  Valorsay  were  frightened,  he  did  not  show 
it.  "  Many  thanks  for  your  zeal,  my  dear  lady,"  he 
replied,  "  but  all  this  is  a  mere  nothing.  Return  home 
at  once;  you  will  receive  my  instructions  to-morrow." 


XVII. 

Mademoiselle  Marguerite  had  been  greatly  surprised 
on  the  occasion  of  her  visit  to  M.  Fortunat  when  she 
saw  Victor  Chupin  suddenly  step  forward  and  eagerly 
exclaim  :  "  I  shall  be  unworthy  of  the  name  I  bear  if 
I  do  not  find  M.  Ferailleur  for  you  in  less  than  a 
fortnight." 

It  is  true  that  M.  Fortunat's  clerk  did  not  appear  to 
the  best  advantage  on  this  occasion.  In  order  to  watch 
M.  de  Coralth,  he  had  again  arrayed  himself  in  his  cast- 
off  clothes,  and  with  his  blouse  and  his  worn-out  shoes, 
his   "  knockers  "   and   his  glazed   cap,  he  looked  the 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE     2>?>7 

vagabond  to  perfection.  Still,  strange  as  it  may  seem, 
Mademoiselle  Marguerite  did  not  once  doubt  the  devo- 
tion of  this  strange  auxiliary.  Without  an  instant's  hes- 
itation she  replied,  "  I  accept  your  services,  monsieur." 

Chupin  felt  at  least  a  head  taller  as  he  heard  this 
beautiful  young  girl  speak  to  him  in  a  voice  as  clear 
and  as  sonorous  as  crystal.  "  Ah  !  you  are  right  to 
trust  me,"  he  rejoined,  striking  his  chest  with  his 
clinched  hand,  "  for  I  have  a  heart — but " 

"But  what,  monsieur?" 

"  I  am  wondering  if  you  would  consent  to  do  what  I 
wish.  It  would  be  a  very  good  plan,  but  if  it  dis- 
pleases you,  we  will  say  no  more  about  it." 

"  And  what  do  you  wish  ?  " 

"  To  see  you  every  day,  so  as  to  tell  you  what  I've 
done,  and  to  obtain  such  directions  as  I  may  require. 
I'm  well  aware  that  I  can't  go  to  M.  de  Fondège's  door 
and  ask  to  speak  to  you;  but  there  are  other  ways  of 
seeing  each  other.  For  instance,  every  evening  at  five 
o'clock  precisely,  I  might  pass  along  the  Rue  Pigalle, 
and  warn  you  of  my  presence  by  such  a  signal  as  this  : 
'  Pi-ouit  !  '"  So  saying  he  gave  vent  to  the  peculiar 
call,  half  whistle,  half  ejaculation,  which  is  familiar  to 
the  Parisian  working-classes.  "  Then,"  he  resumed, 
"  you  might  come  down  and  I  would  tell  you  the  news  ; 
besides,  I  might  often  help  you  by  doing  errands." 

Mademoiselle  Marguerite  reflected  for  a  moment,  and 
then  bowing  her  head,  she  replied  : 

"  What  you  suggest  is  quite  practicable.  On  and 
after  to-morrow  evening  I  will  watch  for  you  ;  and  if 
I  don't  come  down  at  the  end  of  half  an  hour,  you  will 
know  that  I  am  unavoidably  detained." 

Chupin  ought  to  have  been  satisfied.  But  no,  he  had 
still  another  request  to  make;  and  instinct,  supplying 


338     BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

the  lack  of  education,  told  him  that  it  was  a  delicate 
one.  Indeed,  he  dared  not  present  his  petition  ;  but  his 
embarrassment  was  so  evident,  and  he  twisted  his  poor 
cap  so  despairingly,  that  at  last  the  young  girl  gently 
asked  him:  "  Is  there  anything  more?" 

He  still  hesitated,  but  eventually,  mustering  all  his 
courage,  he  replied  :  "  Well,  yes,  mademoiselle.  I've 
never  seen  Monsieur  Ferailleur.  Is  he  tall  or  short, 
light  or  dark,  stout  or  thin?  I  do  not  know.  I  might 
stand  face  to  face  with  him  without  being  able  to  say, 
'  It's  he.'  But  it  would  be  quite  a  different  thing  if  I 
only  had  a  photograph  of  him." 

A  crimson  flush  spread  over  Mademoiselle  Mar- 
guerite's face.  Still  she  answered,  unaffectedly,  "  I  will 
give  you  M.  Ferailleur's  photograph  to-morrow,  mon- 
sieur." 

"  Then  I  shall  be  all  right  !  "  exclaimed  Chupin. 
"  Have  no  fears,  mademoiselle,  we  shall  outwit  these 
scoundrels  !  " 

So  far  a  silent  witness  of  this  scene,  M.  Fortunat 
now  felt  it  his  duty  to  interfere.  He  was  not  particu- 
larly pleased  by  his  clerk's  suddenly  increased  impor- 
tance; and  yet  it  mattered  little  to  him,  for  his  only 
object  was  to  revenge  himself  on  Valorsay.  "  Victor  is 
a  capable  and  trustworthy  young  fellow,  mademoiselle," 
he  declared  ;  "  he  has  grown  up  under  my  training,  and 
I  think  you  will  find  him  a  faithful  servant." 

A  "  have  you  finished,  you  old  liar?  "  rose  to  Chupin's 
lips,  but  respect  for  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  pre- 
vented him  from  uttering  the  words.  "  Then  every- 
thing is  decided,"  she  said,  pleasantly.  And  with  a 
smile  she  offered  her  hand  to  Chupin  as  one  does  in 
concluding  a  bargain. 

If  he  had  yielded  to  his  first  impulse  he  would  have 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE     339 

thrown  himself  on  his  knees  and  kissed  this  hand  of 
hers,  the  whitest  and  most  beautiful  he  had  ever  seen. 
As  it  was,  he  only  ventured  to  touch  it  with  his  finger- 
tips, and  yet  he  changed  color  two  or  three  times. 
"  What  a  woman  !  "  he  exclaimed,  when  she  had  left 
them.  "  A  perfect  queen  !  A  man  would  willingly 
allow  himself  to  be  chopped  in  pieces  for  her  sake  ;  and 
she's  as  good  and  as  clever  as  she's  handsome.  Did  you 
notice,  monsieur,  that  she  did  not  ofifer  to  pay  me.  She 
understood  that  I  offered  to  work  for  her  for  my  own 
pleasure,  for  my  own  satisfaction  and  honor.  Heavens  ! 
how  I  should  have  chafed  if  she  had  oflfered  me  money. 
How  provoked  I  should  have  been  !  " 

Chupin  was  so  fascinated  that  he  wished  no  reward 
for  his  toil  !  This  was  so  astonishing  that  M.  Fortunat 
remained  for  a  moment  speechless  with  surprise.  "Have 
you  gone  mad,  Victor?"  he  inquired  at  last. 

"  Mad  !    I  ? — not  at  all  ;  I'm  only  becoming "    He 

stopped  short.  He  was  going  to  add  :  "  an  honest 
man."  But  it  is  scarcely  proper  to  talk  about  the  rope 
in  the  hangman's  house,  and  there  are  certain  words 
which  should  never  be  pronounced  in  the  presence  of 
certain  people.  Chupin  knew  this,  and  so  he  quickly 
resumed  :  "  When  I  become  rich,  when  I'm  a  great 
banker,  and  have  a  host  of  clerks  who  spend  their  time 
in  counting  my  gold  behind  a  grating,  I  should  like  to 
have  a  wife  of  my  own  like  that.  But  I  must  be 
ofif  about  my  business  now,  so  till  we  meet  again, 
monsieur." 

The  foregoing  conversation  will  explain  how  it  hap- 
pened that  Madame  Léon  chanced  to  surprise  her  dear 
young  lady  in  close  conversation  with  a  vagabond  clad 
in  a  blouse.  Victor  Chupin  was  not  a  person  to  make 
promises  and  then  leave  them  unfulfilled.     Though  he 


340     BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

was  usually  unimpressionable,  like  all  who  lead  a  pre- 
carious existence,  still,  when  his  emotions  were  once 
aroused,  they  did  not  s])en(l  themselves  in  empty  pro- 
testations. It  became  his  fixed  determination  to  find 
Pascal  Ferailleur,  and  tlie  difficulties  of  the  task  in  no 
wise  weakened  his  resolution.  His  starting  ])oint  was 
that  Pascal  had  lived  in  the  Rue  d'Ulm,  and  had  sud- 
denly gone  off  with  his  mother,  with  the  apparent  in- 
tention of  sailing  for  America.  This  was  all  he  knew 
positively,  and  everything  else  was  mere  conjecture. 
Still  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  had  convinced  him  that 
instead  of  leaving  Paris,  Pascal  was  really  still  there, 
only  waiting  for  an  opportunity  to  establish  his  inno- 
cence, and  to  wreak  his  vengeance  upon  M.  de  Coralth 
and  the  Marquis  de  Valorsay.  On  the  other  hand,  with 
such  a  slight  basis  to  depend  upon,  was  it  not  almost 
madness  to  hope  to  discover  a  man  who  had  such 
strong  reasons  for  concealing  himself?  Chupin  did  not 
think  so;  in  fact,  when  he  declared  his  determination 
to  perform  this  feat,  his  plan  was  already  perfected. 

On  leaving  M.  Fortunat's  office,  he  hastened  straight 
to  the  Rue  d'Ulm,  at  the  top  of  his  speed.  The  con- 
cierge of  the  house  where  Pascal  had  formerly  resided 
was  by  no  means  a  polite  individual.  He  was  the  very 
same  man  who  had  answered  Mademoiselle  Mar- 
.guerite's  questions  so  rudely;  but  Chupin  had  a  way 
of  conciliating  even  the  most  crabbish  doorkeeper,  and 
of  drawing  from  him  such  information  as  he  desired. 
He  learned  that  at  nine  o'clock  on  the  sixteenth  of 
October  Madame  Ferailleur,  after  seeing  her  trunks 
securely  strapped  on  to  a  cab,  had  entered  the  vehicle, 
ordering  the  driver  to  take  her  to  the  Railway  Station 
in  the  Place  du  Havre  !  Chupin  wished  to  ascertain  the 
number  of  the  cab,  but  the  concierge  could  not  give  it- 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE    341 

He  mentioned,  however,  that  this  cab  had  been  pro- 
cured by  Madame  Ferailleur's  servant-woman,  who 
Hved  only  a  few  steps  from  the  house.  A  moment  later 
Chupin  was  knocking  at  this  woman's  door.  She  was 
a  very  worthy  person,  and  bitterly  regretted  the  mis- 
fortunes which  had  befallen  her  former  employers.  She 
confirmed  the  doorkeeper's  story,  but  unfortunately  she, 
too,  had  quite  forgotten  the  number  of  the  vehicle.  All 
she  could  say  was  that  she  had  hired  it  at  the  cab  stand 
in  the  Rue  Soufflot,  and  that  the  driver  was  a  portly, 
pleasant-faced  man. 

Chupin  repaired  at  once  to  the  Rue  Soufflot,  where 
he  found  the  man  in  charge  of  the  stand  in  the  most 
savage  mood  imaginable.  He  began  by  asking  Chupin 
what  right  he  had  to  question  him,  why  he  wished  to 
do  so,  and  if  he  took  him  for  a  spy.  He  added  that  his 
duty  only  consisted  in  noting  the  arrivals  and  depart- 
ures of  the  drivers,  and  that  he  could  give  no  informa- 
tion whatever.  There  was  evidently  nothing  to  be 
gained  from  this  ferocious  personage;  and  yet  Chupin 
bowed  none  the  less  politely  as  he  left  the  little  office. 
"  This  is  bad,"  he  growled,  as  he  walked  away,  for  he 
was  really  at  a  loss  what  to  do  next;  and  if  not  dis- 
couraged, he  was  at  least  extremely  disconcerted  and 
perplexed.  Ah  !  if  he  had  only  had  a  card  from  the 
prefecture  of  police  in  his  pocket,  or  if  he  had  been 
more  imposing  in  appearance,  he  would  have  encoun- 
tered no  obstacles  ;  he  might  then  have  tracked  this  cab 
through  the  streets  of  Paris  as  easily  as  he  could  have 
followed  a  man  bearing  a  lighted  lantern  through  the 
darkness.  But  poor  and  humble,  without  letters  of 
recommendation,  and  with  no  other  auxiliaries  than  his 
own  shrewdness  and  experience,  he  had  a  great  deal  to 
contend  against.   Pausing  in  his  walk,  he  had  taken  off 


342     BARON    TRIGAL'LT'S    VENGEANCE 

his  cap  and  was  scratching  his  head  furiously,  when 
suddenly  he  exclaimed:  "  What  an  ass  1  am!  "  in  so 
loud  a  tone  that  several  passers-by  turned  to  see  who 
was  ap])lyinj^''  this  unllattering  epithet  to  himself. 

Chupin  had  just  remembered  one  of  M.  Isidore  F(jr- 
tunat's  debtors,  a  man  whom  he  often  visited  in  the 
hope  of  extorting  some  trilhng  amount  from  him,  and 
who  was  employed  in  the  Central  office  of  the  Paris 
Cab  Company.  "If  any  one  can  help  me  out  of  this 
difificulty,  it  must  be  that  fellow,"  he  said  to  himself. 
"  I  hope  I  shall  find  him  at  his  desk  !  Come,  Victor, 
my  boy,  you  must  look  alive  !  '' 

However,  he  could  not  present  himself  at  the  office 
in  the  garb  he  then  wore,  and  so,  much  against  his  will, 
he  went  home  and  changed  his  clothes.  Then  he  took 
a  cab  at  his  own  expense,  and  drove  with  all  possible 
speed  to  the  main  ofifice  of  the  Cab  Company,  in  the 
Avenue  de  Ségur.  Nevertheless  it  was  already  ten 
o'clock  when  he  arrived  there.  He  was  more  fortunate 
than  he  had  dared  to  hope.  The  man  he  wanted  had 
charge  of  a  certain  department,  and  was  compelled  to 
return  to  the  office  every  evening  after  dinner.  He  was 
there  now. 

He  was  a  poor  devil  who,  while  receiving  a  salary 
of  fifteen  hundred  francs  a  year,  spent  a  couple  of 
thousand,  and  utilized  his  wits  in  defending  his  meagre 
salary  from  his  creditors.  On  perceiving  Chupin,  he 
made  a  wrathful  gesture,  and  his  first  words  were:  "  I 
haven't  got  a  penny." 

But  Chupin  smiled  his  most  genial  smile.  "  What  !  " 
said  he,  "  do  you  fancy  I've  come  to  collect  money  from 
you  here,  and  at  this  hour?  You  don't  know  me.  I 
merely  came  to  ask  a  favor  of  you." 

The  clerk's  clouded  face  brightened.     "  Since  that  is 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE     343 

the  case,  pray  take  a  seat,  and  tell  me  how  I  can  serve 
you,"  he  repHed. 

"  Very  well.  At  nine  o'clock  in  the  evening,  on  the 
sixteenth  of  October,  a  lady  living-  in  the  Rue  d'Ulm 
sent  to  the  stand  in  the  Rue  Soufflot  for  a  cab.  Her 
baggage  was  placed  upon  it,  and  she  went  away  no  one 
knows  where.  However,  this  lady  is  a  relative  of  my 
employer,  and  he  so  much  wishes  to  find  her  that  he 
would  willingly  give  a  hundred  francs  over  and  above 
the  amount  you  owe  him,  to  ascertain  the  number  of 
the  vehicle.  He  pretends  that  you  can  give  him  this  num- 
ber if  you  choose;  and  it  isn't  an  impossibility,  is  it?  " 

"  On  the  contrary,  nothing  could  be  easier,"  replied 
the  clerk,  glad  of  an  opportunity  to  explain  the  in- 
genious mechanism  of  the  office  to  an  outsider.  "  Have 
you  ten  minutes  to  spare  ?  " 

"  Ten  days,  if  necessary,"  rejoined  Chupin. 

"  Then  you  shall  see."  So  saying  the  clerk  rose  and 
went  into  the  adjoining  room,  whence  a  moment  later 
he  returned  carrying  a  large  green  box.  "  This  con- 
tains the  October  reports  sent  in  every  evening  by  the 
branch  offices,"  he  remarked  in  explanation.  He  next 
opened  the  box,  glanced  over  the  documents  it  con- 
tained, and  joyfully  exclaimed  :  "  Here  we  have  it.  This 
is  the  report  sent  in  by  the  superintendent  of  the  cab- 
stand in  the  Rue  Soufflot  on  the  16th  October.  Here 
is  a  list  of  the  vehicles  that  arrived  or  left  from  a  quar- 
ter to  nine  o'clock  till  a  quarter  past  nine.  Five  cabs 
came  in,  but  we  need  not  trouble  ourselves  about  them. 
Three  went  out  bearing  the  numbers  1781,  3025,  and 
2140.  One  of  these  three  must  have  taken  your  em- 
ployer's relative." 

"  Then  I  must  question  the  three  drivers." 

The  clerk  shrugged  his  shoulders.     "  What  is  the 


344     BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

use  of  doing  that?"  he  said,  (Hsdainfully.  "Ah!  you 
don't  understand  the  way  in  which  wc  manage  our  busi- 
ness !  The  drivers  are  artful,  but  the  company  isn't  a 
fool.  By  expending  a  hundred  and  fifty  thousand 
francs  on  its  detective  force  every  year,  it  knows  what 
each  cab  is  doing  at  each  hour  of  the  day.  I  will  now 
look  for  the  reports  sent  in  respecting  these  three  driv- 
ers. One  of  the  three  will  give  us  the  desired  in- 
formation." 

This  time  the  search  was  a  considerably  longer  one, 
and  Chupin  was  beginning  to  grow  impatient,  when  the 
clerk  waved  a  soiled  and  crumpled  sheet  of  paper  tri- 
umphantly in  the  air,  and  cried  :  "  What  did  I  tell  you? 
This  is  the  report  concerning  the  driver  of  No.  2140. 
Listen  :  Friday,  at  ten  minutes  past  nine,  sent  to  the 
Rue  d'Ulm What  do  you  think  of  that  ?  " 

"  It's  astonishing!   But  where  can  I  find  this  driver?" 

"  I  can't  say,  just  at  this  moment;  he's  on  duty  now. 
But  as  he  belongs  to  this  division  he  will  be  back  sooner 
or  later,  so  you  had  better  wait." 

"I  will  wait  then;  only  as  I've  had  no  dinner,  I'll 
go  out  and  get  a  mouthful  to  eat.  I  can  promise  you 
that  M.  Fortunat  will  send  you  back  your  note  can- 
celled." 

Chupin  was  really  very  hungry,  and  so  he  rushed  ofï 
to  a  little  eating-house  which  he  had  remarked  on  his 
way  to  the  office.  There  for  eighteen  sous  he  dined, 
or  rather  supped,  like  a  prince;  and  as  he  subsequently 
treated  himself  to  a  cup  of  coflFee  and  a  glass  of 
brandy,  as  a  reward  for  his  toil,  some  little  time  had 
elapsed  when  he  returned  to  the  office.  However,  No. 
2140  had  not  returned  in  his  absence,  so  he  stationed 
himself  at  the  door  to  wait  for  it. 

His  patience  was  severely  tried,  for  it  was  past  mid- 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE     345 

night  when  Chupin  saw  the  long-looked-for  vehicle 
enter  the  courtyard.  The  driver  slowly  descended  from 
his  box  and  then  went  into  the  cashier's  office  to  pay 
over  his  day's  earnings,  and  hand  in  his  report.  Then 
he  came  out  again  evidently  bound  for  home.  As  the 
servant-woman  had  said,  he  was  a  stout,  jovial-faced 
man,  and  he  did  not  hesitate  to  accept  a  glass  of  "no 
matter  what"  in  a  wine-shop  that  was  still  open. 
Whether  he  believed  the  story  that  Chupin  told  to  ex- 
cuse his  questions  or  not,  at  all  events  he  answered  them 
very  readily.  He  perfectly  remembered  having  been 
sent  to  the  Rue  d'Ulm,  and  spoke  of  his  "  fare  "  as  a 
respectable-looking  old  lady,  enumerated  the  number 
of  her  trunks,  boxes,  and  packages,  and  even  described 
their  form.  He  had  taken  her  to  the  railway  station, 
stopping  at  the  entrance  in  the  Rue  d'Amsterdam  ;  and 
when  the  porters  inquired,  as  usual,  "  Where  is  this 
baggage  to  go?"  the  old  lady  had  answered,  "To 
London." 

Chupin  felt  decidedly  crestfallen  on  hearing  this.  He 
had  fancied  that  Madame  Ferailleur  had  merely  an- 
nounced her  intention  of  driving  to  the  Havre  railway 
station  so  as  to  set  possible  spies  on  the  wrong  track, 
and  he  would  have  willingly  wagered  anything,  that 
after  going  a  short  distance  she  had  given  the  cabman 
different  instructions.  Not  so,  however,  he  had  taken 
her  straight  to  the  station.  Was  Mademoiselle  Mar- 
guerite deceived  then?  Had  Pascal  really  fled  from 
his  enemies  without  an  attempt  at  resistance?  Such  a 
course  seemed  impossible  on  his  part.  Thinking  over 
all  this,  Chupin  slept  but  little  that  night,  and  the  next 
morning,  before  five  o'clock,  he  was  wandering  about 
the  Rue  d'Amsterdam  peering  into  the  wine-shops  in 
search  of  some  railway  porter.     It  did  not  take  him 


346     BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

long  to  find  one,  and  having  done  so,  he  made  him 
tlie  best  of  friends  in  less  than  no  time.  Although  this 
porter  knew  nothing  about  the  matter  himself,  he  took 
Chupin  to  a  comrade  who  remembered  handling  the 
baggage  of  an  old  lady  bound  for  London,  on  the  even- 
ing of  the  sixteenth.  However,  this  baggage  was  not 
put  into  the  train  after  all;  the  old  lady  had  left  it  in 
the  cloak-room,  and  the  next  day  a  fat  woman  of  un- 
prepossessing appearance  had  called  for  the  things,  and 
had  taken  them  away,  after  paying  the  charges  for 
storage.  This  circumstance  had  been  impressed  on  the 
porter's  mind  by  the  fact  that  the  woman  had  not  given 
him  a  farthing  gratuity,  although  he  had  been  much 
more  obliging  than  the  regulations  required.  However, 
when  she  went  off,  she  remarked  in  a  honeyed  voice, 
but  with  an  exceedingly  impudent  air:  "  I'll  repay  you 
for  your  kindness,  my  lad.  I  keep  a  wine-shop  on  the 
Route  d'Asnières,  and  if  you  ever  happen  to  pass  that 
way  with  one  of  your  comrades,  come  in,  and  I'll  re- 
ward you  with  a  famous  drink  !  " 

What  had  exasperated  the  porter  almost  beyond  en- 
durance, was  the  certainty  he  felt  that  she  was  mock- 
ing him.  "  For  she  didn't  give  me  her  name  or  ad- 
dress, the  old  witch  !  "  he  growled.  "  She  had  better 
look  out,  if  I  ever  get  hold  of  her  again  !  " 

But  Chupin  had  already  gone  off,  unmoved  by  his 
informant's  grievances.  Now  that  he  had  discovered 
the  stratagem  which  Madame  Ferailleur  had  employed 
to  elude  her  pursuers,  his  conjectures  were  changed  into 
certainties.  This  information  proved  that  Pascal  was 
concealed  somewhere  in  Paris;  but  where?  If  he  could 
only  find  out  this  woman  who  had  called  for  the  trunks, 
it  would  lead  to  the  discovery  of  Madame  Ferailleur 
and  her  son,  but  how  was  he  to  ascertain  the  woman's 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE     347 

whereabouts?  She  had  said  that  she  kept  a  wine-shop 
on  the  Route  d'Asnières.  Was  this  true?  Was  it  not 
more  Hkely  that  this  vagiie  direction  was  only  a  fresh 
precaution  ? 

This  much  was  certain:  Chupin,  who  knew  every 
wine-shop  on  the  Route  d'Asnières,  did  not  remember 
any  such  powerful  matron  as  the  porter  had  described. 
He  had  not  forgotten  Madame  Vantrasson.  But  to 
imagine  any  bond  of  interest  between  Pascal  and  such 
a  woman  as  she  was,  seemed  absurd  in  the  extreme. 
However,  as  he  found  himself  in  such  a  plight  and 
could  not  afford  to  let  any  chance  escape,  he  repaired 
merely  for  form's  sake  to  the  Vantrasson  establishment. 
It  had  not  changed  in  the  least  since  the  evening  he 
visited  it  in  company  with  M.  Fortunat — but  seen  in 
the  full  light  of  day,  it  appeared  even  more  dingy  and 
dilapidated.  Madame  Vantrasson  was  not  in  her  ac- 
customed place,  behind  the  counter,  between  her  black 
cat — her  latest  idol — and  the  bottles  from  which  she 
prepared  her  ratafia,  now  her  supreme  consolation  here 
below.  There  was  no  one  in  the  shop  but  the  landlord. 
Seated  at  a  table,  with  a  lighted  candle  near  him,  he 
was  engaged  in  an  occupation  which  would  have  set 
Chupin's  mind  working  if  he  had  noticed  it.  Van- 
trasson had  taken  some  wax  from  a  sealed  bottle,  and, 
after  melting  it  at  the  flame  of  the  candle,  he  let  it 
drop  slowly  on  to  the  table.  He  then  pressed  a  sou 
upon  it,  and  when  the  wax  had  become  sufficiently  cool 
and  stiff",  he  removed  it  from  the  table  without  destroy- 
ing the  impression,  by  means  of  a  thin  bladed  knife 
similar  to  those  which  glaziers  use.  However,  Chupin 
did  not  remark  this  singular  employment.  He  was 
engaged  in  mentally  ejaculating,  "Good!  the  old 
woman    isn't   here."      And    as    his    plan    of   campaign 


348     BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

was  already  prepared,  he  entered  without  further  hesi- 
tation. 

As  Vantrasson  heard  the  door  turn  upon  its  hinges, 
he  rose  so  awkwardly,  or  rather  so  skilfully,  as  to  let 
all  his  implements,  wax,  knife,  and  impressions,  fall  on 
the  floor  behind  the  counter.  "  What  can  I  do  to  serve 
you  ?  "  he  asked,  in  a  husky  voice. 

"  Nothing.     I  wished  to  speak  with  your  wife." 

"  She  has  gone  out.  She  works  for  a  family  in  the 
morning." 

This  was  a  gleam  of  light.  Chupin  had  not  thought 
of  the  only  hypothesis  that  could  explain  what  seemed 
inexplicable  to  him.  However,  he  knew  how  to  conceal 
his  satisfaction,  and  so  with  an  air  of  disappointment, 
he  remarked  :  "  That's  too  bad  !  I  shall  be  obliged  to 
call  again." 

"  So  you  have  a  secret  to  tell  my  wife?  " 

"  Not  at  all." 

"Won't  I  do  as  well,  then?" 

"  I'll  tell  you  how  it  is.  I'm  employed  in  the  bag- 
gage room  of  the  western  railway  station,  and  I  wanted 
to  know  if  your  wife  didn't  call  there  a  few  days  ago 
for  some  trunks  ?  " 

The  landlord's  features  betrayed  the  vague  perturba- 
tion of  a  person  who  can  count  the  days  by  his  mistakes, 
and  it  was  with  evident  hesitation  that  he  replied  : 

"  Yes,  my  wife  went  to  the  Havre  station  for  some 
baggage  last  Sunday." 

"  I  thought  so.  Well,  this  is  my  errand  :  either  the 
clerk  forgot  to  ask  her  for  her  receipt,  or  else  he  lost 
it.  He  can't  find  it  anywhere.  I  came  to  ask  your 
wife  if  she  hadn't  kept  it.  When  she  returns,  please 
deliver  my  message;  and  if  she  has  the  receipt,  pray 
send  it  to  me  through  the  post." 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE    349 

The  ruse  was  not  particularly  clever,  but  it  was  suffi- 
ciently so  to  deceive  Vantrasson.  "  To  whom  am  I  to 
send  this  receipt?"  he  asked. 

"  To  me,  Victor  Chupin,  Faubourg  Saint  Denis,"  was 
the  reply. 

Imprudent  youth  !  alas,  he  little  suspected  what  a 
liberty  M.  Fortunat  had  taken  with  his  name  on  the 
evening  he  visited  the  Vantrassons.  But  on  his  side 
the  landlord  of  the  Model  Lodging  House  had  not  for- 
gotten the  name  mentioned  by  the  agent.  He  turned 
pale  with  anger  on  beholding  his  supposed  creditor,  and 
quickly  slipping  between  the  visitor  and  the  door,  he 
said:  "  So  your  name  is  Victor  Chupin?" 

"  Yes,  certainly." 

"  And  you  are  in  the  employment  of  the  Railway 
Company  ?  " 

"  As  I  just  told  you." 

"  That  doesn't  prevent  you  from  acting  as  a  col- 
lector, does  it  ?  " 

Chupin  instinctively  recoiled,  convinced  that  he  had 
betrayed  himself  by  some  blunder,  but  unable  to  dis- 
cover in  what  he  had  erred.  "  I  did  do  something  in 
that  line  formerly,"  he  faltered. 

Vantrasson  doubted  no  longer.  "  So  you  confess 
that  you  are  a  vile  scoundrel  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  You 
confess  that  you  purchased  an  old  promissory  note  of 
mine  for  fourpence,  and  then  sent  a  man  here  to  seize 
my  goods  !  Ah  !  you'd  like  to  trample  the  poor  under 
foot,  would  you  !  Very  well.  I  have  you  now,  and  Fll 
settle  your  account  !  Take  that  !  "  And  so  saying,  he 
dealt  his  supposed  creditor  a  terrible  blow  with  his 
clinched  fist  that  sent  him  reeling  to  the  other  end  of 
the  shop. 

Fortunately,  Chupin  was  very  nimble.     He  did  not 


350     BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

lose  liis  footing,  but  sprung  over  a  table  and  used  it  as 
a  rampart  to  shield  himself  from  his  dangerous  assail- 
ant. In  the  open  field,  he  could  easily  have  protected 
himself;  but  here  in  this  narrow  space,  and  hemmed 
in  a  corner,  he  felt  that  despite  this  barrier  he  was  lost. 
"  What  a  devil  of  a  mess  !  "  he  thought,  as  with  won- 
derful agility  he  avoided  Vantrasson's  fist,  a  fist  that 
would  have  felled  an  ox.  He  had  an  idea  of  calling 
for  assistance.  But  would  any  one  hear  him?  Would 
any  one  reply?  And  if  help  came,  would  not  the  police 
be  sure  to  hear  of  the  broil?  And  if  they  did,  would 
there  not  be  an  investigation  which  would  perhaps  dis- 
turb Pascal's  plans?  Fearing  to  injure  those  whom  he 
wished  to  serve,  he  resolved  to  let  himself  be  hacked 
to  pieces  rather  than  allow  a  cry  to  escape  him;  but 
he  changed  his  tactics,  and  instead  of  attempting  to 
parry  the  blows  as  he  had  done  before,  he  now  only 
thought  of  gaining  the  door,  inch  by  inch. 

He  had  almost  reached  it,  not  without  sufifering  con- 
siderable injury,  when  it  suddenly  opened,  and  a  young 
man  clad  in  black,  with  a  smooth  shaven  face,  entered  the 
shop,  and  sternly  exclaimed  :  "  Why  !  what's  all  this  ?  " 

The  sight  of  the  newcomer  seemed  to  stupefy  Van- 
trasson.  "  Ah  !  it  is  you,  Monsieur  Maumejan  ?  "  he 
faltered,  with  a  crestfallen  air.  "  It's  nothing  ;  we  were 
only  in  fun." 

M.  Maumejan  seemed  perfectly  satisfied  with  this 
explanation;  and  in  the  indifferent  tone  of  a  man  who 
is  delivering  a  message,  the  meaning  of  which  he 
scarcely  understood,  he  said  :  "  A  person  who  knows 
that  your  wife  is  in  my  employ  requested  me  to  ask  you 
if  you  would  be  ready  to  attend  to  that  little  matter 
she  spoke  of." 

"  Certainly.     I  was  preparing  for  it  a  moment  ago." 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE     351 

Chupin  heard  no  more.  He  had  hurried  out,  his 
clothes  in  disorder,  and  himself  not  a  Httle  hurt  ;  but 
his  dehght  made  him  lose  all  thought  of  his  injuries. 
"  That's  M.  Ferailleur,"  he  muttered,  "  I'm  sure  of  it, 
and  I'm  going  to  prove  it."  So  saying  he  hid  himself 
in  the  doorway  of  a  vacant  house  a  few  paces  distant 
from  the  Vantrassons',  and  waited. 

Then  as  soon  as  M.  Mauméjan  emerged  from  the 
Model  Lodging  House,  he  followed  him.  The  young 
man  with  the  clean  shaven  face  walked  up  the  Route 
d'Asnières,  turned  to  the  right  into  the  Route  de  la 
Révolte,  and  at  last  paused  before  a  house  of  humble 
aspect.  At  that  moment  Chupin  darted  toward  him, 
and  softly  called,  "  M'sieur  Ferailleur!" 

The  young  man  turned  instinctively.  Then  seeing  his 
mistake,  and  feeling  that  he  had  betrayed  himself,  he 
sprang  upon  Chupin,  and  caught  him  by  the  wrists  : 
"  Scoundrel  !  who  are  you  ?  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Who 
has  hired  you  to  follow  me  !  What  do  you  want  of 
me?" 

"  Not  so  fast,  m'sieur  !  Don't  be  so  rough  !  You 
hurt  me.    I'm  sent  by  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  !  " 


XVIII. 

"  O  God  !  send  Pascal  to  my  aid,"  prayed  Mademoiselle 
Marguerite,  as  she  left  M.  Fortunat's  house.  Now  she 
understood  the  intrigue  she  had  been  the  victim  of; 
but,  instead  of  reassuring  her  the  agent  had  frightened 
her,  by  revealing  the  Marquis  de  Valorsay's  desperate 
plight.  She  realized  what  frenzied  rage  must  fill  this 
man's  heart  as  he  felt  himself  gradually  slipping  from 
the  heights  of  opulence,  down  into  the  depths  of  pov- 


352     BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

erty  and  crime.  What  might  he  not  dare,  in  order  to 
preserve  even  the  semblance  of  grandeur  for  a  year, 
or  a  month,  or  a  day  longer  !  Had  they  measured  the 
extent  of  his  villainy?  Would  he  even  hesitate  at  mur- 
der? And  the  poor  girl  asked  herself  with  a  shudder 
if  Pascal  were  still  living;  and  a  vision  of  his  bleeding 
corpse,  lying  lifeless  in  some  deserted  street,  rose  before 
her.  And  who  could  tell  what  dangers  threatened  her 
personally?  For,  though  she  knew  the  past,  she  could 
not  read  the  future.  What  did  M.  de  Valorsay's  letter 
mean?  and  wdiat  was  the  fate  that  he  held  in  reserve 
for  her,  and  that  made  him  so  sanguine  of  success? 
The  impression  produced  upon  her  mind  was  so  terri- 
ble that  for  a  moment  she  thought  of  hastening  to  the 
old  justice  of  the  peace  to  ask  for  his  protection  and  a 
refuge.  But  this  weakness  did  not  last  long.  Should 
she  lose  her  energ)'?  Should  her  will  fail  her  at  the 
decisive  moment?  "No,  a  thousand  times  no!"  she 
said  to  herself  again  and  again.  "  I  will  die  if  needs 
be,  but  I  will  die  fighting  !  "  And  the  nearer  she  ap- 
proached the  Rue  Pigalle,  the  more  energetically  she 
drove  away  her  apprehension,  and  sought  for  an  ex- 
cuse calculated  to  satisfy  any  one  who  might  have 
noticed  her  long  absence. 

An  unnecessary  precaution.  She  found  the  house  as 
when  she  left  it,  abandoned  to  the  mercy  of  the  ser- 
vants— the  strangers  sent  the  evening  before  from  the 
employment  office.  Important  matters  still  kept  the 
General  and  his  wife  from  home.  The  husband  had  to 
show  his  horses;  and  the  wife  was  intent  upon  shop- 
ping. As  for  Madame  Léon,  most  of  her  time  seemed 
to  be  taken  up  by  the  family  of  relatives  she  had  so 
suddenly  discovered.  Alone,  free  from  all  espionage, 
and  wishing  to  ward  ofï  despondency  by  occupation, 


BARON   TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE     353 

Mademoiselle  Marguerite  was  just  beginning  a  letter 
to  her  friend  the  old  magistrate,  when  a  servant  entered 
and  announced  that  her  dressmaker  was  there  and 
wished  to  speak  with  her.  "  Let  her  come  in,"  replied 
Marguerite,  with  unusual  vivacity.  "  Let  her  come  in 
at  once." 

A  lady  who  looked  some  forty  years  of  age,  plainly 
dressed,  but  of  distinguished  appearance,  was  there- 
upon ushered  into  the  room.  Like  any  well-bred 
modiste,  she  bowed  respectfully  while  the  servant  was 
present,  but  as  soon  as  he  had  left  the  room  she  ap- 
proached Mademoiselle  Marguerite  and  took  hold  of 
her  hands  :  "  My  dear  young  lady,"  said  she,  "  I  am  the 
sister-in-law  of  your  old  friend,  the  magistrate.  Hav- 
ing an  important  message  to  send  to  you,  he  was  trying" 
to  find  a  person  whom  he  could  trust  to  play  the  part 
of  a  dressmaker,  as  had  been  agreed  upon  between  you, 
when  I  offered  my  services,  thinking  he  could  find  no 
one  more  trusty  than  myself." 

Tears  glittered  in  Mademoiselle  Marguerite's  eyes. 
The  slightest  token  of  sympathy  is  so  sweet  to  the  heart 
of  the  lonely  and  unfortunate  !  "  How  can  I  ever  thank 
you,  madame  ?  "  she  faltered. 

"  By  not  attempting  to  thank  me  at  all,  and  by  read- 
ing this  letter  as  soon  as  possible." 

The  note  she  now  produced  ran  as  follows  : 

"  My  Dear  Child — At  last  I  am  on  the  track  of  the 
thieves.  By  conferring  with  the  people  from  whom  M, 
de  Chalusse  received  the  money  a  couple  of  da3'S  before 
his  death,  I  have  been  fortunate  enough  to  obtain  from 
them  some  minute  details  respecting  the  missing  bonds, 
as  well  as  the  numbers  of  the  bank-notes  which  were 
deposited  in  the  escritoire.  With  this  information,  we 
cannot  fail  to  prove  the  guilt  of  the  culprits  sooner  or 


354    BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

later.  You  write  me  word  that  the  Fondèges  are  spend- 
ing;- money  lavishly  ;  try  and  find  out  the  names  of  the 
])cople  they  deal  with,  and  communicate  them  to  me. 
Once  more,  1  tell  you  that  I  am  sure  of  success. 
Courage  !  " 

"  Wei!  !  "  said  the  spurious  dressmaker,  when  she 
saw  that  INIarguerite  had  finished  reading  the  letter. 
"  What  answer  shall  I  take  my  brother-in-law?  " 

"  Tell  him  that  he  shall  certainly  have  the  informa- 
tion he  requires  to-morrow.  To-day,  I  can  only  give 
him  the  name  of  the  carriage  builder,  from  whom  M. 
de  Fondège  has  purchased  his  new  carriages." 

"  Give  it  to  me  in  writing,  it  is  much  the  safest  way." 

Mademoiselle  Marguerite  did  so,  and  her  visitor 
who,  as  a  woman,  was  delighted  to  find  herself  mixed 
up  in  an  intrigue,  then  went  ofif  repeating  the  old  mag- 
istrate's advice  :  "  Courage  !  " 

But  it  was  no  longer  necessary  to  encourage  Made- 
moiselle Marguerite.  The  assurance  of  being  so  ef- 
fectually helped,  had  already  increased  her  courage  an 
hundredfold.  The  future  that  had  seemed  so  gloomy 
only  a  moment  before,  had  now  suddenly  brightened. 
By  means  of  the  negative  in  the  keeping  of  the  pho- 
tographer, Carjat,  she  had  the  Marquis  de  Valorsay  in 
her  power;  and  the  magistrate,  thanks  to  the  numbers 
of  the  bank-notes,  could  soon  prove  the  guilt  of  the 
Fondèges.  The  protection  of  Providence  was  made 
evident  in  an  unmistakable  manner.  Thus  it  was  with 
a  placid  and  almost  smiling  face  that  she  successively 
greeted  Madame  Léon,  who  returned  home  quite  played 
out,  then  Madame  de  Fondège,  who  made  her  appear- 
ance attended  by  two  shop-boys  overladen  with  pack- 
ages, and  finally  the  General,  who  brought  his  son, 
Lieutenant  Gustave,  with  him  to  dinner. 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE     355 

The  lieutenant  was  a  good-looking  fellow  of  twenty- 
seven,  or  thereabouts,  with  laughing  eyes  and  a  heavy 
mustache.  He  made  a  great  clanking  with  his  spurs, 
and  wore  the  somewhat  theatrical  uniform  of  the  13th 
Hussars  rather  ostentatiously.  He  bowed  to  Made- 
moiselle Marguerite  with  a  smile  that  was  too  becom- 
ing to  be  displeasing  ;  and  he  offered  her  his  arm  with 
an  air  of  triumph  to  lead  her  to  the  dining-room,  as 
soon  as  the  servant  came  to  announce  that  "  Madame  la 
Comtesse  was  served." 

Seated  opposite  to  him  at  table,  the  young  girl  could 
not  refrain  from  furtively  watching  the  man  whom  they 
wished  to  compel  her  to  marry.  Never  had  she  seen 
such  intense  self-complacency  coupled  with  such  utter 
mediocrity.  It  was  evident  that  he  was  doing  his  best 
to  produce  a  favorable  impression  ;  but  as  the  dinner 
progressed,  his  conversation  became  rather  venture- 
some. He  gradually  grew  extremely  animated  ;  and 
three  or  four  adventures  of  garrison  life  which  he 
persisted  in  relating  despite  his  mother's  frowns,  were 
calculated  to  convince  his  hearers  that  he  was  a  great 
favorite  with  the  fair  sex.  It  was  the  good  cheer  that 
loosened  his  tongue.  There  could  be  no  possible  doubt 
on  that  score;  and,  indeed,  while  drinking  a  glass  of 
the  Château  Laroze,  to  which  Madame  Léon  had  taken 
such  a  liking,  he  was  indiscreet  enough  to  declare  that 
if  his  mother  had  always  kept  house  in  this  fashion,  he 
should  have  been  inclined  to  ask  for  more  frequent 
leaves  of  absence. 

However,  strange  to  say,  after  the  coffee  was  served, 
the  conversation  languished  till  at  last  it  died  out  al- 
most entirely.  Madame  de  Fondège  was  the  first  to 
disappear  on  the  pretext  that  some  domestic  affairs 
required  her  attention.     The  General  was  the  next  to 


356    BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANTE 

rise  and  Ç!;o  ont,  in  order  to  smoke  a  cigar  ;  and  finally 
Madame  Léon  made  her  escape  without  saying  a  word. 
So  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  was  left  quite  alone  with 
Lieutenant  Gustave.  It  was  evident  enough  to  the 
young  girl  that  this  had  been  preconcerted;  and  she 
asked  herself  what  kind  of  an  opinion  M.  and  Madame 
de  Fondège  could  have  of  her  delicacy.  The  proceed- 
ing made  her  so  indignant  that  she  was  on  the  point  of 
rising  from  the  table  and  of  retiring  like  the  others, 
when  reason  restrained  her.  She  said  to  herself  that 
perhaps  she  might  gain  some  useful  information  from 
this  young  man,  and  so  she  remained. 

His  face  w^as  crimson,  and  he  seemed  by  far  the  more 
embarrassed  of  the  two.  He  sat  with  one  elbow  rest- 
ing on  the  table,  and  with  his  gaze  persistently  fixed 
upon  a  tiny  glass  half  full  of  brandy  which  he  held  in 
his  hand,  as  if  he  hoped  to  gain  some  sublime  inspira- 
tion from  it.  At  last,  after  an  interval  of  irksome 
silence,  he  ventured  to  exclaim  :  "  Mademoiselle,  should 
you  like  to  be  an  officer's  wife?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  answered  Marguerite. 

"  Really  !  But  at  least  you  understand  my  motive  in 
asking  this  question  ?  " 

"  No." 

Any  one  but  the  complacent  lieutenant  would  have 
been  disconcerted  by  Mademoiselle  Marguerite's  dry 
tone;  but  he  did  not  even  notice  it.  The  effort  that  he 
was  making  in  his  intense  desire  to  be  eloquent  and 
persuasive  absorbed  the  attention  of  all  his  faculties. 
"Then  permit  me  to  explain,  mademoiselle,"  he  re- 
sumed. "  We  meet  this  evening  for  the  first  time,  but 
our  acquaintance  is  not  the  affair  of  a  day.  For  I  know 
not  how  long  my  father  and  mother  have  continually 
been  chanting  your  praises.   '  Mademoiselle  Marguerite 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE     357 

does  this;  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  does  that.'  They 
never  cease  talking  of  you,  declaring  that  heart,  wit, 
talent,  beauty,  all  womanly  charms  are  united  in  your 
person.  And  they  have  never  wearied  of  telling  me 
that  the  man  whom  you  honored  with  your  preference 
would  be  the  happiest  of  mortals.  However,  so  far  I 
had  no  desire  to  marry,  and  I  distrusted  them.  In  fact, 
I  had  conceived  a  most  violent  prejudice  against  you. 
Yes,  upon  my  honor  !  I  felt  sure  that  I  should  dislike 
you;  but  I  have  seen  you  and  all  is  changed.  As  soon 
as  my  eyes  fell  upon  you,  I  experienced  a  powerful 
revulsion  of  feeling.  I  was  never  so  smitten  in  my 
life — and  I  said  to  myself,  '  Lieutenant,  it  is  all  over — 
you  are  caught  at  last  !  '  " 

Pale  with  anger,  astonished  and  humiliated  beyond 
measure,  the  young  girl  listened  with  her  head  low- 
ered, vainly  trying  to  find  words  to  express  the  feelings 
which  disturbed  her  ;  but  M.  Gustave,  misunderstanding 
her  silence,  and  congratulating  himself  upon  the  effect 
he  had  produced,  grew  bolder,  and  with  the  tenderest 
and  most  impassioned  inflection  he  could  impart  to  his 
voice,  continued  :  "  Who  could  fail  to  be  impressed  as 
I  have  been?  How  could  one  behold,  without  raptur- 
ous admiration,  such  beautiful  eyes,  such  glorious  black 
hair,  such  smiling  lips,  such  a  graceful  mien,  such  won- 
derful charms  of  person  and  of  mind?  How  would  it 
be  possible  to  listen,  unmoved,  to  a  voice  which  is 
clearer  and  purer  than  crystal?  Ah!  my  mother's  de- 
scriptions fell  far  short  of  the  truth.  But  how  can  one 
describe  the  perfections  of  an  angel?  To  any  one  who 
has  the  happiness  or  the  misfortune  of  knowing  you, 
there  can  only  be  one  woman  in  the  world  !  " 

He  had  gradually  approached  her  chair,  and  now  ex- 
tended his  hand  to  take  hold  of  Marguerite's,  and  prob- 


358     BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

ably  raise  it  to  his  lips.  But  she  shrank  from  the  con- 
tact as  from  red-hot  iron,  and  rising  hurriedly,  with  her 
eyes  flashing,  and  her  voice  quivering  with  indigna- 
tion: "Monsieur!"  she  exclaimed,  "Monsieur!" 

He  was  so  surprised  that  he  stood  as  if  petrified,  with 
his  eyes  wide  open  and  his  hand  still  extended.  "  Per- 
mit me — allow  me  to  explain,"  he  stammered.  But  she 
declined  to  listen.  "  Who  has  told  you  that  you  could 
address  such  words  to  me  with  impunity?"  she  con- 
tinued. "  Your  parents,  I  suppose  ;  I  daresay  they  told 
you  to  be  bold.  And  that  is  why  they  have  left  us,  and 
why  no  servant  has  appeared.  Ah  !  they  make  me  pay 
dearly  for  the  hospitality  they  have  given  me  !  "  As 
she  spoke  the  tears  started  from  her  eyes  and  glistened 
on  her  long  lashes.  "  Whom  did  you  fancy  you  were 
speaking  to?"  she  added.  "Would  you  have  been  so 
audacious  if  I  had  a  father  or  a  brother  to  resent  your 
insults  ?  " 

The  lieutenant  started  as  if  he  had  been  lashed  with 
a  whip.    "  Ah  !  you  are  severe  !  "  he  exclaimed. 

And  a  happy  inspiration  entering  his  mind,  he  con- 
tinued :  "  A  man  does  not  insult  a  woman,  mademoi- 
selle, when,  while  telling  her  that  he  loves  her  and 
thinks  her  beautiful,  he  ofifers  her  his  name  and  life." 

Mademoiselle  Marguerite  shrugged  her  shoulders 
ironically,  and  remained  for  a  moment  silent.  She  was 
very  proud,  and  her  pride  had  been  cruelly  wounded; 
but  reason  told  her  that  a  continuation  of  this  scene 
would  render  a  prolonged  sojourn  in  the  General's 
house  impossible;  and  where  could  she  go,  without  ex- 
citing malevolent  remarks?  Whom  could  she  ask  an 
asylum  of?  Still  this  consideration  alone  would  not 
have  sufficed  to  silence  her.  But  she  remembered  that 
a  quarrel  and  a  rupture  with  the  Fondèges  would  cer- 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE     359 

tainly  imperil  the  success  of  her  plans.  "  So  I  will 
swallow  even  this  affront,"  she  said  to  herself;  and  then 
in  a  tone  of  melancholy  bitterness,  she  remarked,  aloud  : 
"  A  man  cannot  set  a  very  high  value  on  his  name 
when  he  offers  it  to  a  woman  whom  he  knows  abso- 
lutely nothing  about." 

"  Excuse  me — you  forget  that  my  mother " 

"  Your  mother  has  only  known  me  for  a  week." 

An  expression  of  intense  surprise  appeared  on  the 
lieutenant's  face.     "  Is  it  possible?  "  he  murmured. 

"  Your  father  has  met  me  five  or  six  times  at  the 
table  of  the  Count  de  Chalusse,  who  was  his  friend — 
but  what  does  he  know  of  me?  "  resumed  Mademoiselle 
Marguerite.  "  That  I  came  to  the  Hôtel  de  Chalusse 
a  year  ago,  and  that  the  count  treated  me  like  a  daugh- 
ter— that  is  all  !  Who  I  am,  where  I  was  reared,  and 
how,  and  what  my  past  life  has  been,  these  are  matters 
that  M,  de  Fondège  knows  nothing  whatever  about." 

"  My  parents  told  me  that  you  were  the  daughter  of 
the  Count  de  Chalusse,  mademoiselle." 

"  What  proof  have  they  of  it  ?  They  ought  to  have 
told  you  that  I  was  an  unfortunate  foundling,  with  no 
other  name  than  that  of  Marguerite." 

"Oh!" 

"  They  ought  to  have  told  you  that  I  am  poor,  very 
poor,  and  that  I  should  probably  have  been  reduced 
to  the  necessity  of  toiling  for  my  daily  bread,  if  it  had 
not  been  for  them." 

An  incredulous  smile  curved  the  lieutenant's  lips.  He 
fancied  that  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  only  wished  to 
prove  his  disinterestedness,  and  this  thought  restored 
his  assurance.  "  Perhaps  you  are  exaggerating  a  little, 
mademoiselle,"  he  replied. 

"  I  am  not  exaggerating — I  possess  but  ten  thousand 


360    BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

francs  in  the  world — I  swear  it  by  all  that  I  hold 
sacred." 

"  That  would  not  even  be  the  dowry  required  of  an 
officer's  wife  by  law/'  muttered  the  lieutenant. 

Was  his  incredulity  sincere  or  affected?  What  had 
his  parents  really  told  him?  Had  they  confided  every- 
thing to  him,  and  was  he  their  accomplice?  or  had  they 
told  him  nothing?  All  these  questions  flashed  rapidly 
through  Marguerite's  mind.  "  You  suppose  that  I  am 
rich,  monsieur,"  she  resumed  at  last.  "  I  understand 
that  only  too  well.  If  I  was,  you  ought  to  shun  me  as 
you  would  shun  a  criminal,  for  I  could  only  be  wealthy 
through  a  crime." 

"  Mademoiselle " 

"  Yes,  through  a  crime.  After  M.  de  Chalusse's 
death,  two  million  francs  that  had  been  placed  in  his 
escritoire  for  safe  keeping,  could  not  be  found.  Who 
stole  the  money?  I  myself  have  been  accused  of  the 
theft.  Your  father  must  have  told  you  of  this,  as  well 
as  of  the  cloud  of  suspicion  that  is  still  hanging  over 
me. 

She  paused,  for  the  lieutenant  had  become  whiter 
than  his  shirt.  "  Good  God  !  "  he  exclaimed  in  a  tone 
of  horror,  as  if  a  terrible  light  had  suddenly  broken 
upon  his  mind.  He  made  a  movement  as  if  to  leave 
the  room,  but  suddenly  changing  his  mind,  he  bowed 
low  before  Mademoiselle  Marguerite,  and  said,  in  a 
husky  voice  :  "  Forgive  me,  mademoiselle,  I  did  not 
know  what  I  was  doing.  I  have  been  misinformed. 
I  have  been  beguiled  by  false  hopes.  I  entreat  you  to 
say  that  you  forgive  me." 

"  I  forgive  you,  monsieur." 

But  still  he  lingered.  "  I  am  only  a  poor  devil  of 
a  lieutenant,"  he  resumed,  "  with  no  other  fortune  than 


BARON   TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE    361 

my  epaulettes,  no  other  prospects  than  an  uncertain 
advancement.  I  have  been  foohsh  and  thoughtless.  I 
have  committed  many  acts  of  folly  ;  but  there  is  nothing 
in  my  past  life  for  which  I  have  cause  to  blush."  He 
looked  fixedly  at  Mademoiselle  Marguerite,  as  if  he 
were  striving  to  read  her  inmost  soul  ;  and  in  a  solemn 
tone,  that  contrasted  strangely  with  his  usual  levity 
of  manner,  he  added  :  "  If  the  name  I  bear  should  ever 
be  compromised,  my  prospects  would  be  blighted  for- 
ever !  The  only  course  left  for  me  would  be  to  tender 
my  resignation.  I  will  leave  nothing  undone  to  pre- 
serve my  honor  in  the  eyes  of  the  world,  and  to  right 
those  who  have  been  wronged.  Promise  me  not  to  in- 
terfere with  my  plans." 

Mademoiselle  Marguerite  trembled  like  a  leaf.  She 
now  realized  her  terrible  imprudence.  He  had  divined 
everything.  As  she  remained  silent,  he  continued 
wildly  :  "  I  entreat  you.  Do  you  wish  me  to  beg  you 
at  your  feet  ?  " 

Ah  !  it  was  a  terrible  sacrifice  that  he  demanded  of 
her.  But  how  could  she  remain  obdurate  in  the  pres- 
ence of  such  intense  anguish?  "  I  will  remain  neutral," 
she  replied,  "  that  is  all  I  can  promise.  Providence 
shall  decide." 

"  Thank  you,"  he  said,  sadly,  suspecting  that  perhaps 
it  was  already  too  late — "  thank  you."  Then  he  turned 
to  go,  and,  in  fact,  he  had  already  opened  the  door, 
when  a  forlorn  hope  brought  him  back  to  Mademoiselle 
Marguerite,  whose  hand  he  took,  timidly  faltering, 
"We  are  friends,  are  we  not?" 

She  did  not  withdraw  her  icy  hand,  and  in  a  scarcely 
audible  voice,  she  repeated  :  "  We  are  friends  ?  " 

Convinced  that  he  could  obtain  nothing  more  from 
her  than  her  promised  neutrality,  the  lieutenant  there- 


362     BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

upon  hastily  left  the  room,  and  she  sank  back  in  her 
chair  more  dead  than  alive.  "  Great  God  !  what  is  com- 
ing now  ?  "  she  murmured. 

She  thought  she  could  understand  the  unfortunate 
young  man's  intentions,  and  she  listened  with  a  throb- 
bing heart,  expecting  to  hear  a  stormy  explanation  be- 
tween his  parents  and  himself.  In  point  of  fact,  she 
almost  immediately  afterward  heard  the  lieutenant  in- 
quire in  a  stern,  imperious  voice  :  "  Where  is  my 
father?" 

"  The  General  has  just  gone  to  his  club." 

"  And  my  mother?" 

"  A  friend  of  hers  called  a  few  moments  ago  to  take 
her  to  the  opera." 

"  What  madness  !  " 

That  was  all.  The  outer  door  opened  and  closed 
again  with  extreme  violence,  and  then  Marguerite  heard 
nothing  save  the  sneering  remarks  of  the  servants. 

It  was,  indeed,  madness  on  the  part  of  M.  and 
Madame  de  Fondège  not  to  have  waited  to  learn  the 
result  of  this  interview,  planned  by  themselves,  and 
upon  which  their  very  lives  depended.  But  delirium 
seemed  to  have  seized  them  since,  thanks  to  a  still  in- 
explicable crime,  they  had  suddenly  found  themselves 
in  possession  of  an  immense  fortune.  Perhaps  in  this 
wild  pursuit  of  pleasure,  in  the  haste  they  displayed  to 
satisfy  their  covetous  longings,  they  hoped  to  forget 
or  silence  the  threatening  voice  of  conscience.  Such 
was  Mademoiselle  Marguerite's  conclusion;  but  she 
was  not  long  left  to  undisturbed  meditation.  By  the 
lieutenant's  departure  the  restrictions  which  had  been 
placed  upon  the  servants'  movements  had  evidently  been 
removed,  for  they  came  in  to  clear  the  table. 

Having  with  some  little  difficulty  obtained  a  candle 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE     363 

from  one  of  these  model  servants,  Mademoiselle  Mar- 
guerite now  retired  to  her  own  room.  In  her  anxiety, 
she  forgot  Madame  Léon,  but  the  latter  had  not  for- 
gotten her;  she  was  even  now  listening  at  the  drawing- 
room  door,  inconsolable  to  think  that  she  had  not  suc- 
ceeded in  hearing  at  least  part  of  the  conversation 
between  the  lieutenant  and  her  dear  young  lady.  Mar- 
guerite had  no  wish  to  reflect  over  what  had  occurred. 
As  she  was  determined  to  keep  the  promise  which  Lieu- 
tenant Gustave  had  wrung  from  her,  it  mattered  little 
whether  she  had  committed  a  great  mistake  in  allowing 
him  to  discover  her  knowledge  of  his  parent's  guilt, 
and  in  listening  to  his  entreaties.  A  secret  presenti- 
ment warned  her  that  the  punishment  which  would  over- 
take the  General  and  his  wife  would  be  none  the  less 
terrible,  despite  her  own  forbearance,  and  that  they 
would  find  their  son  more  inexorable  than  the  severest 
judge. 

The  essential  thing  was  to  warn  the  old  magistrate  ; 
and  so  in  a  couple  of  pages  she  summarized  the  scene 
of  the  evening,  feeling  sure  that  she  would  find  an 
opportunity  to  post  her  letter  on  the  following  day. 
This  duty  accomplished,  she  took  a  book  and  went  to 
bed,  hoping  to  drive  away  her  gloomy  thoughts  by 
reading.  But  the  hope  was  vain.  Her  eyes  read  the 
words,  followed  the  lines  and  crossed  the  pages,  but 
her  mind  utterly  refused  to  obey  her  will,  and  in  spite 
of  all  her  efiforts  persisted  in  turning  to  the  shrewd 
youth  who  had  solemnly  sworn  to  find  Pascal  for  her. 
A  little  after  midnight  Madame  de  Fondège  returned 
from  the  opera,  and  at  once  proceeded  to  reprimand  her 
maid  for  not  having  lighted  a  fire.  The  General  re- 
turned some  time  afterward,  and  he  was  evidently  in 
the  best  of  spirits. 


364     BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

"  They  have  not  seen  their  son,"  said  Mademoiselle 
Marguerite  to. herself,  and  this  anxiety,  combined  with 
many  others,  tortured  her  so  cruelly,  that  she  did  not 
fall  asleep  until  near  daybreak.  Even  then  she  did  not 
slumber  long.  It  was  scarcely  half-past  seven  when 
she  was  aroused  by  a  strange  commotion  and  a  loud 
sound  of  hammering.  She  was  trying  to  imagine  the 
cause  of  all  this  uproar,  when  Madame  de  Fondège, 
already  arrayed  in  a  marvellous  robe  composed  of  three 
skirts  and  an  enormous  puff,  entered  the  room.  "  I 
have  come  to  take  you  away,  my  dear  child,"  she  ex- 
claimed. "  The  owner  of  the  house  has  decided  to  make 
some  repairs,  and  the  workmen  have  already  invaded 
our  apartments.  The  General  has  taken  flight,  let  us 
follow  his  example — so  make  yourself  beautiful  and 
we'll  go  at  once." 

Without  a  word,  the  young  girl  hastened  to  obey, 
while  Madame  de  Fondège  expatiated  on  the  delightful 
drive  they  would  take  together  in  the  wonderful 
brougham  which  the  General  had  purchased  a  couple  of 
days  before.  As  for  Lieutenant  Gustave,  she  did  not 
even  mention  his  name. 

Accustomed  to  the  superb  equipages  of  the  Chalusse 
establishment,  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  did  not  con- 
sider the  much-lauded  brougham  at  all  remarkable.  At 
the  most,  it  was  very  showy,  having  apparently  been 
selected  with  a  view  to  attracting  as  much  attention 
as  possible.  Madame  de  Fondège  was  not  in  a  mood 
to  consider  this  an  objection  that  morning.  She  was 
evidently  in  a  nervous  state  of  mind,  extremely  restless 
and  excited,  indeed,  it  seemed  impossible  for  her  to 
keep  still.  In  default  of  something  better  to  do,  she 
visited  at  least  a  dozen  shops,  asking  to  see  everything, 
finding  everything  frightful,  and  purchasing  without 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE    365 

regard  to  price.  It  might  have  been  fancied  that  she 
wished  to  buy  all  Paris.  About  ten  o'clock  she  dragged 
Marguerite  to  Van  Klopen's.  Received  as  a  habituée 
of  the  establishment,  thanks  to  the  numerous  orders  she 
had  given  within  the  past  few  days,  she  was  even  al- 
lowed to  enter  the  mysterious  saloon  in  which  the  illus- 
trious ruler  of  Fashion  served  such  of  his  clients  as  had 
a  predilection  for  absinthe  or  madeira.  On  leaving  the 
place,  and  before  entering  the  carriage  again,  Madame 
de  Fondège  turned  to  Marguerite  and  inquired  : 
"  Where  shall  we  go  now  ?  I  have  given  the  servants 
an  '  outing  '  on  account  of  the  workmen,  and  we  cannot 
breakfast  at  home.  Why  can't  we  go  to  a  restaurant, 
we  two?  Many  of  the  most  distinguished  ladies  are  in 
the  habit  of  doing  so.  You  will  see  how  people  will 
look  at  us  !    I  am  sure  it  will  amuse  you  immensely." 

"  Ah  !  madame,  you  forget  that  it  is  not  a  fortnight 
since  the  count's  death  !  " 

Madame  de  Fondège  was  about  to  make  an  impatient 
reply,  but  she  mastered  the  impulse,  and  in  a  tone  of 
hypocritical  compassion,  exclaimed  :  "  Poor  child  !  poor, 
dear  child  !  that's  true.  I  had  forgotten.  Well,  such 
being  the  case,  we'll  go  and  ask  Baroness  Trigault  to 
give  us  our  breakfast.  You  will  see  a  lovely  woman." 
And  addressing  the  coachman  she  instructed  him  to 
drive  to  the  Trigault  mansion  in  the  Rue  de  la  Ville 
l'Evêque. 

When  Madame  de  Fondège's  brougham  drew  up  be- 
fore the  door,  the  baron  was  standing  in  the  courtyard 
with  a  cigar  between  his  teeth,  examining  a  pair  of 
horses  which  had  been  sent  him  on  approbation.  He 
did  not  like  his  wife's  friend,  and  he  usually  avoided 
her.  But  precisely  because  he  was  acquainted  with  the 
General's  crime  and  Pascal's  plans,  he  thought  it  politic 


366     BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

to  seem  amiable.  So,  on  recognizing  Madame  dc  Fon- 
dège  through  the  carriage  window,  he  hastened  for- 
ward with  outstretched  hand  to  assist  her  in  aUghting. 
"  Did  you  come  to  take  breakfast  with  us?  "  he  asked. 
"  That  would  be  a  most  delightful " 

The  remainder  of  the  sentence  died  unuttered  upon 
his  lips.  His  face  became  crimson,  and  the  cigar  he 
was  holding  slipped  from  his  fingers.  He  had  just 
perceived  Mademoiselle  Marguerite,  and  his  consterna- 
tion was  so  apparent  that  Madame  de  Fondcge  could 
not  fail  to  remark  it;  however,  she  attributed  it  to  the 
girl's  remarkable  beauty.  "  This  is  Mademoiselle  de 
Chalusse,  my  dear  baron,"  said  she,  "  the  daughter  of 
the  noble  and  esteemed  friend  whom  we  so  bitterly 
lament." 

Ah  !  it  was  not  necessary  to  tell  the  baron  who  this 
young  girl  was  ;  he  knew  it  only  too  well.  He  was  not 
overcome  for  long;  a  thought  of  vengeance  speedily 
flashed  through  his  mind.  It  seemed  to  him  that  Provi- 
dence itself  offered  him  the  means  of  putting  an  end 
to  an  intolerable  situation.  Regaining  his  self-control 
by  a  powerful  effort,  he  preceded  Madame  de  Fondège 
through  the  magnificent  apartments  of  the  mansion, 
lightly  saying:  "My  wife  is  in  her  boudoir.  She  will 
be  delighted  to  see  you.  But  first  of  all,  I  have  a  good 
secret  to  confide  to  you.  So  let  me  take  this  young  lady 
to  the  baroness,  and  you  and  I  can  join  them  in  a 
moment  !  "  Thereupon,  without  waiting  for  any  re- 
joinder, he  took  Marguerite's  arm  and  led  her  toward 
the  end  of  the  hall.  Then  opening  a  door,  he  exclaimed 
in  a  mocking  voice  :  "  Madame  Trigault,  allow  me  to 
present  to  you  the  daughter  of  the  Count  de  Chalusse." 
And  adding  in  a  whisper  :  "  This  is  your  mother,  young 
girl,"  he  pushed  the  astonished  Marguerite  into  the 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE    367 

room,  closed  the  door,  and  returned  to  Madame  de 
Fondège. 

Paler  than  her  white  muslin  wrapper,  the  Baroness 
Trigault  sprang  from  her  chair.  This  was  the  woman 
who,  while  her  husband  was  braving  death  to  win  for- 
tune for  her,  had  been  dazzled  by  the  Count  de  Cha- 
lusse's  wealth,  and  who,  later  in  life,  when  she  was  the 
richest  of  the  rich,  had  sunk  into  the  very  depths  of 
degradation — had  stooped,  indeed,  to  a  Coralth  !  The 
baroness  had  once  been  marvellously  beautiful,  and  even 
now,  many  murmurs  of  admiration  greeted  her  when 
she  dashed  through  the  Champs  Elysées  in  her  magnifi- 
cent equipage,  attired  in  one  of  those  eccentric  cos- 
tumes which  she  alone  dared  to  wear.  She  was  a  type 
of  the  wife  created  by  the  customs  of  fashionable 
society;  the  woman  who  feels  elated  when  her  name 
appears  in  the  newspapers  and  in  the  chronicles  of 
Parisian  "  high  life  "  ;  who  has  no  thought  of  her  de- 
serted fireside,  but  is  ever  tormented  by  a  terrible  thirst 
for  bustle  and  excitement;  whose  head  is  empty,  and 
whose  heart  is  dry — the  woman  who  only  exists  for 
the  world;  and  who  is  devoured  by  unappeasable  cov- 
etousness,  and  who,  at  times,  envies  an  actress's  liberty, 
and  the  notoriety  of  the  leaders  of  the  demi-monde j  the 
woman  who  is  always  in  quest  of  fresh  excitement,  and 
fails  to  find  it;  the  woman  who  is  blosé,  and  prema- 
turely old  in  mind  and  body,  and  who  yet  still  clings 
despairingly  to  her  fleeting  youth. 

Inaccessible  to  any  emotion  but  vanity,  the  baroness 
had  never  shed  a  tear  over  her  husband's  sufferings. 
She  was  sure  of  her  absolute  power  over  him.  What 
did  the  rest  matter?  She  even  gloried  in  her  knowl- 
edge that  she  could  make  this  man — who  loved  her  in 
spite  of  everything — at  one  moment  furious  with  rage 


368     BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

or  wild  with  grief,  and  then  an  instant  afterward  plunge 
him  into  the  rapture  of  a  senseless  ecstasy  by  a  word, 
a  smile,  or  a  caress.  For  such  was  her  power,  and  she 
often  exercised  it  mercilessly.  Even  after  the  frightful 
scene  that  Pascal  had  witnessed,  she  had  made  another 
appeal  to  the  baron,  and  he  had  been  weak  enough  to 
give  her  the  thirty  thousand  francs  which  M.  de  Co- 
ralth  needed  to  purchase  his  wife's  silence. 

However,  this  time  the  baroness  trembled.  Her 
usual  shrewdness  had  not  deserted  her,  and  she  per- 
fectly understood  all  that  Marguerite's  presence  in  that 
house  portended.  Since  her  husband  brought  this 
young  girl — her  daughter — to  her,  he  miust  know  every- 
thing, and  have  taken  some  fatal  resolution.  Had  she, 
indeed,  exhausted  the  patience  which  she  had  fancied 
inexhaustible?  She  was  not  ignorant  of  the  fact  that 
her  husband  had  disposed  of  his  immense  fortune  in  a 
way  that  would  enable  him  to  say  and  prove  that  he 
was  insolvent  whenever  occasion  required;  and  if  he 
found  courage  to  apply  for  a  legal  separation,  what 
could  she  hope  to  obtain  from  the  courts  ?  A  bare  liv- 
ing, almost  nothing.  In  such  a  case,  how  could  she 
exist  ?  She  would  be  compelled  to  spend  her  last  years  in 
the  same  poverty  that  had  made  her  youth  so  wretched. 
She  saw  herself — ah  !  what  a  frightful  misfortune — 
turned  out  of  her  princely  home,  and  reduced  to  fur- 
nished apartments  rented  for  five  hundred  francs  a  year  ! 

Mademoiselle  Marguerite  was  no  less  startled  and 
horror-stricken  than  Madame  Trigault,  and  she  stood 
rooted  to  the  spot,  exactly  where  the  baron  had  left 
her.  Silent  and  motionless,  they  confronted  each  other 
for  a  moment  which  seemed  a  century  to  both  of  them. 
The  resemblance  which  had  astonished  Pascal  could 
not  fail  to  strike  them,  for  it  was  still  more  noticeable 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE    369 

now  that  they  stood  face  to  face.  But  anything  was 
preferable  to  this  torturing  suspense,  and  so,  summon- 
ing all  her  courage,  the  baroness  broke  the  silence  by 
saying  :  "  You  are  the  daughter  of  the  Count  de 
Chalusse?  " 

"  I  think  so,  but  I  have  no  proofs  of  it." 

"  And — your  mother?  " 

"  I  do  not  know  her,  madame,  and  I  have  no  desire 
to  know  her." 

Disconcerted  by  this  brief  but  implacable  reply, 
Madame  Trigault  hung  her  head. 

"What  could  I  have  to  say  to  my  mother?"  con- 
tinued Marguerite.  "That  I  hate  her?  My  courage 
would  fail  me  to  do  so.  And  yet,  how  can  I  think  with- 
out bitterness  of  the  woman  who,  after  abandoning  me 
herself,  endeavored  to  deprive  me  of  my  father's  love 
and  protection?  I  could  have  forgiven  anything  but 
that.  Ah  !  I  have  not  always  been  so  patient  and  re- 
signed !  The  laws  of  our  country  do  not  forbid  illegiti- 
mate children  to  search  for  their  parents,  and  more  than 
once  I  have  said  to  myself  that  I  would  discover  my 
mother,  and  have  my  revenge." 

"  But  you  have  no  means  of  discovering  her?  " 

"  In  this  you  are  greatly  mistaken,  madame.  After 
the  Count  de  Chalusse's  death,  a  package  of  letters,  a 
glove,  and  some  withered  flowers  were  found  in  one 
of  the  drawers  of  his  escritoire." 

The  baroness  started  back  as  if  a  yawning  chasm  had 
suddenly  opened  at  her  feet.  "  My  letters  !  "  she  ex- 
claimed. "  x\h  !  wretched  woman  that  I  am,  he  kept 
them  !  It  is  all  over  !  I  am  lost,  for  of  course,  they  have 
been  read." 

"  The  ribbon  securing  them  together  has  not  even 
been  untied." 


370     BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

"  Is  that  true?  Don't  deceive  me!  Where  are  they, 
then — where  are  they?" 

"  Under  the  protection  of  the  seals  affixed  by  the 
justice  of  the  peace." 

Madame  Trigault  tottered,  as  if  she  were  about  to 
fall.  "  Then  it  is  only  a  reprieve,"  she  moaned,  "  and 
I  am  none  the  less  ruined.  Those  cursed  letters  will 
necessarily  be  read,  and  all  will  be  discovered.     They 

will  see "     The  thought  of  what  they  would  see 

endowed  her  with  the  energy  of  despair,  and  clutching 
hold  of  Marguerite's  wrists  :  "  Listen  !  "  said  she,  ap- 
proaching so  near  that  her  hot  breath  scorched  the  girl's 
cheeks,  "  no  one  must  be  allowed  to  see  those  letters  ! 
— it  must  not  be  !  I  will  tell  you  what  they  contain. 
I  hated  my  husband;  I  loved  the  Count  de  Chalusse 
madly,  and  he  had  sworn  that  he  would  marry  me  if 
ever  I  became  a  widow.  Do  you  understand  now? 
The  name  of  the  poison  I  obtained — how  I  proposed 
to  administer  it,  and  what  its  effects  would  be — all  this 
is  plainly  written  in  my  own  handwriting  and  signed — • 
yes,  signed — with  my  own  name.  The  plot  failed,  but 
it  was  none  the  less  real,  positive,  palpable — and  those 
letters  are  a  proof  of  it.  But  they  shall  never  be  read 
— no — not  if  I  am  obliged  to  set  fire  to  the  Hôtel  de 
Chalusse  with  my  own  hand." 

Now  the  count's  constant  terror,  the  fear  with  which 
this  woman  had  inspired  him,  were  explained.  He  was 
an  accomplice — he  also  had  written  no  doubt,  and  she 
had  preserved  his  letters  as  he  had  preserved  hers. 
Crime  had  bound  them  indissolubly  together. 

Horrified  beyond  expression.  Marguerite  freed  her- 
self from  Madame  Trigault's  grasp.  "  I  swear  to  you, 
madame,  that  everything  any  human  being  can  do  to 
save  your  letters  shall  be  done  by  me,"  she  exclaimed. 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE     371 

"And  have  you  any  hope  of  success?" 

"  Yes,"  repHed  the  girl,  remembering  her  friend,  the 
magistrate. 

Moved  by  a  far  more  powerful  emotion  than  any  she 
had  ever  known  before,  the  baroness  uttered  an  ex- 
clamation of  joy.  "  Ah  !  how  good  you  are  !  "  she 
exclaimed — "  how  generous  !  how  noble  !  You  take 
your  revenge  in  giving  me  back  life,  honor,  everything 
— for  you  are  my  daughter  ;  do  you  not  know  it  ?  Did 
they  not  tell  you,  before  bringing  you  here,  that  I  was 
the  hated  and  unnatural  mother  who  abandoned  you  ?  " 

She  advanced  with  tearful  eyes  and  outstretched 
arms,  but  Marguerite  sternly  waved  her  back.  "  Spare 
yourself,  madame,  and  spare  me,  the  humiliation  of  an 
unnecessary  explanation." 

"  Marguerite  !  Good  God  !  you  repulse  me.  After 
all  you  have  promised  to  do  for  me,  will  you  not  for- 
giVe  me  ?  " 

"  I  will  try  to  forget,  madame,"  replied  the  girl  and 
she  was  already  stepping  toward  the  door  when  the 
baroness  threw  herself  at  her  feet,  crying,  in  a  heart- 
rending tone  :  "  Have  pity.  Marguerite,  I  am  your 
mother.    One  has  no  right  to  deny  one's  own  mother." 

But  the  young  girl  passed  on.  "  My  mother  is  dead, 
madame  ;  I  do  not  know  you  !  "  And  she  left  the  room 
without  even  turning  her  head,  without  even  glancing 
at  the  baroness,  who  had  fallen  upon  the  floor  in  a  deep 
swoon. 


372     BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 


XIX. 

Baron  Trigault  still  held  Madame  de  Fondège  a  pris- 
oner in  the  hall.  What  did  he  say  to  her  in  justifica- 
tion of  the  expedient  he  had  improvised?  His  own 
agitation  was  so  great  that  he  himself  scarcely  knew, 
and  it  mattered  but  little  after  all,  for  the  good  lady  did 
not  even  pretend  to  listen  to  his  apologies.  Although 
by  no  means  overshrcwd,  she  suspected  some  great 
mystery,  some  choice  bit  of  scandal,  perhaps,  and  her 
eyes  never  once  wandered  from  the  door  leading  to  the 
boudoir.  At  last  this  door  opened  again,  and  Made- 
moiselle Marguerite  reappeared.  "  Great  heavens  !  " 
exclaimed  IMadame  de  Fondège  ;  "  what  has  happened 
to  my  poor  child?  " 

For  the  unfortunate  girl  advanced  with  an  automatic 
tread,  her  eyes  fixed  on  vacancy,  and  her  hands  out- 
stretched, as  if  feeling  her  way.  It  indeed  seemed  to 
her  as  if  the  floor  swayed  to  and  fro  under  her  feet, 
as  if  the  walls  tottered,  as  if  the  ceiling  were  about  to 
fall  upon  her  and  crush  her. 

Madame  de  Fondège  sprang  forward.  "  What  is  the 
matter,  my  dearest?" 

Alas  !  the  poor  girl  was  utterly  overcome.  "  It  is  but 
a  trifle,"  she  faltered.  But  her  eyes  closed,  her  hands 
clutched  wildly  for  some  support,  and  she  would  have 
fallen  to  the  ground  if  the  baron  had  not  caught  her 
in  his  arms  and  carried  her  to  a  sofa.  "  Help  !  "  cried 
Madame  de  Fondège,  "  help,  she  is  dying  ! — a  physi- 
cian !  " 

But  there  was  no  need  of  a  physician.  One  of  the 
maids  came  with  some   fresh  water  and  a  bottle  of 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE    Z7Z 

smelling  salts,  and  Marguerite  soon  recovered  suffi- 
ciently to  sit  up,  and  cast  a  frightened  glance  around 
her,  while  she  mechanically  passed  her  hand  again  and 
again  over  her  cold  forehead.  "  Do  you  feel  better, 
my  darling?  "  inquired  Madame  de  Fondège  at  last. 

"  Yes." 

"  Ah  !  you  gave  me  a  terrible  fright  ;  see  how  I 
tremble."  But  the  worthy  lady's  fright  was  as  nothing 
in  comparison  with  the  curiosity  that  tortured  her.  It 
was  so  powerful,  indeed,  that  she  could  not  control  it. 
"What  has  happened?"  she  asked. 

"  Nothing,  madame,  nothing." 

"  But " 

"  I  am  subject  to  such  attacks.  I  was  very  cold,  and 
the  heat  of  the  room  made  me  feel  faint." 

Although  she  could  only  speak  with  the  greatest  diffi- 
culty, the  baron  realized  by  her  tone  that  she  would 
never  reveal  what  had  taken  place,  and  his  gratitude 
and  relief  knew  no  bounds.  "  Don't  tire  the  poor  child," 
he  said  to  Madame  de  Fondège.  "  The  best  thing  you 
can  do  would  be  to  take  her  home  and  put  her  to  bed." 

"  I  agree  with  you  ;  but,  unfortunately,  I  have  sent 
away  my  brougham  with  orders  not  to  return  for  me 
until  one  o'clock." 

"  Is  that  the  only  difficulty  ?  If  so,  you  shall  have  a 
carriage  at  once,  my  dear  madame."  So  saying,  the 
baron  made  a  sign  to  one  of  the  servants,  and  the  man 
started  on  his  mission  at  once. 

Madame  de  Fondège  was  silent  but  furious.  "  He  is 
actually  putting  me  out  of  doors,"  she  thought.  "  This 
is  a  little  too  much!  And  why  doesn't  the  baroness 
make  her  appearance — she  must  certainly  have  heard 
my  voice?  What  does  it  all  mean?  However,  I'm 
sure  Marguerite  will  tell  me  when  we  are  alone." 


374    BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

But  Madame  de  Fondège  was  wrong,  for  she  vainly 
plied  the  girl  with  questions  all  the  way  from  the  Rue 
de  la  Ville  l'Evêque  to  the  Rue  Pigalle.  She  could  only 
obtain  this  unvarying  and  obstinate  reply  :  "  Nothing 
has  happened.  What  do  you  suppose  could  have  hap- 
pened? " 

Never  in  her  whole  life  had  Madame  de  Fondège 
been  so  incensed.  "  The  blockhead  !  "  she  mentally  ex- 
claimed. "  Who  ever  saw  such  obstinacy  !  Hateful 
creature  ! — I  could  beat  her  !  " 

She  did  not  beat  her,  but  on  reaching  the  house  she 
eagerly  asked  :  "  Do  you  feel  strong  enough  to  go  up 
stairs  alone?  " 

"  Yes,  madame." 

"  Then  I  will  leave  you.  You  know  Van  Klopen 
expects  me  again  at  one  o'clock  precisely;  and  I  have 
not  breakfasted  yet.  Remember  that  my  servants  are 
at  your  disposal,  and  don't  hesitate  to  call  them.  You 
are  at  home,  recollect." 

It  was  not  without  considerable  difficulty — not  with- 
out being  compelled  to  stop  and  rest  several  times  on 
her  way  up  stairs — that  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  suc- 
ceeded in  reaching  the  apartments  of  the  Fondège  fam- 
ily. "Where  is  madame?"  inquired  the  servant  who 
opened  the  door. 

"  She  is  still  out." 

"  Will  she  return  to  dinner  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  M.  Gustave  has  been  here  three  times  already;  he 
was  very  angry  when  he  found  that  there  was  no  one 
at  home — he  went  on  terribly.  Besides,  the  workmen 
have  turned  everything  topsy-turvy." 

However,  Marguerite  had  already  reached  her  own 
room,  and  thrown  herself  on  the  bed.    She  was  suffer- 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE     ZVS 

ing  terribly.  Her  brave  spirit  still  retained  its  energy  ; 
but  the  flesh  had  succumbed.  Every  vein  and  artery 
throbbed  with  violence,  and  while  a  chill  seemed  to 
come  to  her  heart,  her  head  burned  as  if  it  had  been 
on  fire.  "  My  Lord,"  she  thought,  "  am  I  going  to  fall 
ill  at  the  last  moment,  just  when  I  have  most  need  of 
all  my  strength  ?  " 

She  tried  to  sleep,  but  was  unable  to  do  so.  How 
could  she  free  herself  from  the  thought  that  haunted 
her  ?  Her  mother  !  To  think  that  such  a  woman  was 
her  mother  !  Was  it  not  enough  to  make  her  die  of 
sorrow  and  shame  ?  And  yet  this  woman  must  be  saved 
— the  proofs  of  her  crime  must  be  annihilated  with  her 
letters.  Marguerite  asked  herself  whether  the  old  mag- 
istrate would  have  it  in  his  power  to  help  her  in  this 
respect.  Perhaps  not,  and  then  what  could  she  do? 
She  asked  herself  if  she  had  not  been  too  cruel,  too 
severe.  Guilty  or  not,  the  baroness  was  still  her  mother. 
Had  she  the  right  to  be  pitiless,  when  by  stretching  out 
her  hand  she  might,  perhaps,  have  rescued  the  wretched 
woman  from  her  terrible  life. 

Thus  thinking,  the  young  girl  sat  alone  and  forgotten 
in  her  little  room.  The  hours  went  by,  and  daylight 
had  begun  to  wane,  when  suddenly  a  shrill  whistle  re- 
sounded in  the  street,  under  her  windows.  "  Pi-ouit." 
It  came  upon  her  like  an  electric  shock,  and  with  a 
bound  she  sprang  to  her  feet.  For  this  cry  was  the 
signal  that  had  been  agreed  upon  between  herself  and 
the  young  man  who  had  so  abruptly  offered  to  help  her 
on  the  occasion  of  her  visit  to  M.  Fortunat's  office. 
Was  she  mistaken?  No — for  on  listening  she  heard  the 
cry  resound  a  second  time,  even  more  shrill  and  pro- 
longed than  before. 

This  was  no  time  for  hesitation,  and  so  she  went 


376    BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

down  stairs  at  once.  Hope  sent  new  blood  coursing 
through  her  veins  and  endowed  her  with  invincible 
energy.  On  reaching  the  street-door,  she  paused  and 
looked  around  her.  At  a  short  distance  off  she  perceived 
a  young  fellow  clad  in  a  blouse,  who  was  apparently 
engaged  in  examining  the  goods  displayed  in  a  shop 
window.  Despite  his  position,  he  saw  her  also,  for 
coming  nearer,  he  hurriedly  exclaimed  :  "  Follow  me  at 
a  little  distance  in  the  rear  until  I  stop." 

Marguerite  obeyed  him  in  breathless  suspense.  The 
young  fellow  was  our  friend  Victor  Chupin,  now  some- 
what the  worse  for  his  encounter  with  Vantrasson  that 
same  morning.  His  face  was  considerably  disfigured, 
and  one  of  his  eyes  was  black  and  swollen  ;  nevertheless 
he  was  in  a  state  of  ecstatic  happiness.  Happy,  and  yet 
anxious  ;  for,  as  he  preceded  Mademoiselle  Marguerite, 
he  said  to  himself  :  "  How  shall  I  tell  her  that  I  have 
succeeded?  There  must  be  no  folly.  If  I  tell  her  the 
news  suddenly,  she  will  most  likely  faint,  so  I  must 
break  the  news  gently." 

On  reaching  the  Rue  Boursault,  he  turned  the  corner, 
and  paused,  waiting  for  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  to 
join  him.    "  What  is  the  news?  "  she  anxiously  asked, 

"  Everything  is  progressing  finely — slowly,  but 
finely." 

"  You  know  something,  monsieur  !  Speak  !  Don't 
you  see  how  anxious  I  am  ?  " 

He  did  see  it  only  too  well;  and  his  embarrassment 
increased  to  such  a  pitch  that  he  began  to  scratch  his 
head  furiously.  At  last  he  decided  on  a  plan.  "  First 
of  all,  mademoiselle,  brace  yourself  against  the  wall, 
and  now  stand  firm.  Yes,  like  that.  Now,  are  you  all 
right  ?    Well,  I  have  found  M.  Ferailleur  !  " 

Chupin's  precaution  was  a  wise  one,  for  Marguerite 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE    377 

tottered.  Such  a  success,  so  quickly  gained,  was  indeed 
astounding.    "  Is  it  possible?  "  she  murmured. 

"  So  possible  that  I  have  a  letter  for  you  from  M. 
Ferailleur  in  my  pocket,  mademoiselle.  Here  it  is — 
I  am  to  wait  for  an  answer." 

She  took  the  note  he  handed  her,  broke  the  seal  with 
trembling  hand,  and  read  as  follows  : 

"  We  are  approaching  the  end,  my  dearest.  One  step 
more  and  we  shall  triumph.  But  I  must  see  you  to-day 
at  any  risk.  Leave  the  house  this  evening  at  eight 
o'clock.  My  mother  will  be  waiting  for  you  in  a  cab, 
at  the  corner  of  the  Rue  Pigalle  and  the  Rue  Boursault. 
Come,  and  let  no  fear  of  arousing  the  suspicions  of  the 
Fondèges  deter  you.  They  are  henceforth  powerless  to 
injure  you.  Pascal." 

"  I  will  go  !  "  replied  Marguerite  at  once,  careless  of 
the  obstacles  that  might  impede  the  fulfilment  of  her 
promise.  For  it  was  quite  possible  that  serious  diffi- 
culties might  arise.  Madame  Léon,  who  had  been  in- 
visible since  the  morning,  might  suddenly  reappear,  or 
the  General  and  his  wife  might  return  to  dinner.  And 
what  could  Marguerite  answer  if  they  asked  her  where 
she  wanted  to  go  alone,  and  at  such  an  hour  of  the 
evening?  And  if  they  attempted  to  prevent  her  from 
keeping  her  appointment,  how  could  she  resist?  All 
these  were  weighty  questions  and  yet  she  did  not  hesi- 
tate. Pascal  had  spoken;  that  sufficed,  and  she  was 
determined  to  obey  him  implicitly,  cost  what  it  might. 
If  he  advised  such  a  step,  it  was  because  he  deemed  it 
best  and  necessary;  and  she  willingly  submitted  to  the 
instructions  of  the  man  in  whom  she  felt  such  un- 
bounded confidence. 

Having  told  Chupin  that  she  might  be  relied  upon 


378     BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

for  the  evening,  she  was  retracing  her  way  home,  when 
suddenly  the  thought  occurred  to  her  that  she  ought  not 
to  neglect  this  opportunity  to  place  a  decisive  weapon 
in  Pascal's  hands.  She  was  close  to  the  Rue  Notre 
Dame  de  Lorette  and  so  without  more  ado  she  hurried 
to  the  establishment  of  Car j at  the  photographer.  He 
was  fortunately  disengaged,  and  she  at  once  obtained 
from  him  a  proof  of  the  compromising  letter  written 
by  the  Marquis  de  Valorsay  to  Madame  Léon.  She 
placed  it  carefully  in  her  pocket,  thanked  the  photog- 
rapher, and  then  hurried  back  to  the  Rue  Pigalle  to 
wait  for  the  hour  appointed  in  Pascal's  letter.  For- 
tunately none  of  her  unpleasant  apprehensions  were 
realized.  The  dinner-hour  came  and  passed,  and  still 
the  house  remained  deserted.  The  workmen  had  gone 
off  and  the  laughter  and  chatter  of  the  servants  in  the 
kitchen  were  the  only  sounds  that  broke  the  stillness. 
Faint  for  want  of  food — for  she  had  taken  no  nourish- 
ment during  the  day — Marguerite  had  considerable  diffi- 
culty in  obtaining  something  to  eat  from  the  servants. 
At  last,  however,  they  gave  her  some  soup  and  cold 
meat,  served  on  a  corner  of  the  bare  table  in  the  dining- 
room.  It  was  half-past  seven  when  she  finished  this 
frugal  meal.  She  waited  a  moment,  and  then  fearing 
she  might  keep  Madame  Ferailleur  waiting,  she  went 
down  into  the  street. 

A  cab  was  waiting  at  the  corner  of  the  Rue  Bour- 
sault,  as  indicated.  Its  windows  were  lowered,  and  in 
the  shade  one  could  discern  the  face  and  white  hair  of 
an  elderly  lady.  Glancing  behind  her  to  assure  herself 
that  she  had  not  been  followed.  Marguerite  eagerly  ap- 
proached the  vehicle,  whereupon  a  kindly  voice  ex- 
claimed :  "  Jump  in  quickly,  mademoiselle." 

Marguerite  obeyed,  and  the  door  was  scarcely  closed 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE     379 

behind  her  before  the  driver  had  urged  his  horse  into 
a  gallop.  He  had  evidently  received  his  instructions  in 
advance,  as  well  as  the  promise  of  a  magnificent 
gratuity. 

Sitting  side  by  side  on  the  back  seat,  the  old  lady 
and  the  young  girl  remained  silent,  but  this  did  not 
prevent  them  from  casting  stealthy  glances  at  each 
other,  and  striving  to  distinguish  one  another's  features 
whenever  the  vehicle  passed  in  front  of  some  brilliantly 
lighted  shop.  They  had  never  met  before,  and  their 
anxiety  to  become  acquainted  was  intense,  for  they  each 
felt  that  the  other  would  exert  a  decisive  influence  upon 
her  life.  All  of  Madame  Ferailleur's  friends  would  un- 
doubtedly have  been  surprised  at  the  step  she  had  taken, 
and  yet  it  was  quite  in  accordance  with  her  character. 
As  long  as  she  had  entertained  any  hope  of  preventing 
this  marriage  she  had  not  hesitated  to  express  and  even 
exaggerate  her  objections  and  repugnance.  But  her 
point  of  view  was  entirely  changed  when  conquered  by 
the  strength  of  her  son's  passion,  she  at  last  yielded  a 
reluctant  consent.  The  young  girl  who  was  destined 
to  be  her  daughter-in-law  at  once  became  sacred  in  her 
eyes  ;  and  it  seemed  to  her  an  act  of  duty  to  watch  over 
Marguerite,  and  shield  her  reputation.  Having  con- 
sidered the  subject,  she  had  decided  that  it  was  not 
proper  for  her  son's  betrothed  to  run  about  the  streets 
alone  in  the  evening.  Might  it  not  compromise  her 
honor?  and  later  on  might  it  not  furnish  venomous 
Madame  de  Fondège  with  an  opportunity  to  exercise 
her  slanderous  tongue?  Thus  the  puritanical  old  lady 
had  come  to  fetch  Marguerite,  so  that  whenever  occa- 
sion required  she  might  be  able  to  say  :  "  I  was  there  !  " 

As  for  Marguerite,  after  the  trials  of  the  day,  she 
yielded  without  reserve  to  the  feeling  of  rest  and  happi- 


380     BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

ness  that  now  filled  her  heart.  Again  and  again  had 
Pascal  spoken  of  his  mother's  prejudices  and  the  inflex- 
ibility of  her  principles.  But  he  had  also  spoken  of  her 
dauntless  energy,  the  nobility  of  her  nature,  and  of  her 
love  and  devotion  to  him.  With  Marguerite,  moreover, 
one  consideration — one  which  she  would  scarcely  have 
admitted,  perhaps — outweighed  all  others  :  Madame 
Ferailleur  was  Pascal's  mother.  For  that  reason  alone, 
if  for  no  other,  she  was  prepared  to  worship  her.  How 
fervently  she  blessed  this  noble  woman,  who,  a  widow, 
and  ruined  in  fortune  by  an  unprincipled  scoundrel,  had 
bravely  toiled  to  educate  her  son,  making  him  the  man 
whom  Marguerite  had  freely  chosen  from  among  all 
others.  She  would  have  knelt  before  this  grand  but 
simple-hearted  mother  had  she  dared;  she  would  have 
kissed  her  hands.  And  a  poignant  regret  came  to  her 
heart  when  she  remembered  her  own  mother,  Baroness 
Trigault,  and  compared  her  with  this  matchless  woman. 

Meanwhile  the  cab  had  passed  the  outer  boulevards, 
and  was  now  whirling  along  the  Route  d'Asnières,  as 
fast  as  the  horse  could  drag  it.  "  We  are  almost 
there,"  remarked  Madame  Ferailleur,  speaking  for  the 
first  time. 

Marguerite's  response  was  inaudible;  she  was  so 
overcome  with  emotion.  The  driver  had  just  turned 
the  corner  of  the  Route  de  la  Révolte;  and  it  was  not 
long  before  he  checked  his  panting  horse.  "  Look, 
mademoiselle,"  said  Madame  Ferailleur  again,  "  this  is 
our  home." 

Upon  the  threshold,  bareheaded,  and  breathless  with 
impatience  and  hope,  stood  a  man  who  was  counting 
the  seconds  with  the  violent  throbbings  of  his  heart. 
He  did  not  wait  for  the  cab  to  stop,  but  springing  to 
the  door,  he  opened  it;  and  then,  catching  Marguerite 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE    381 

in  his  arms,  he  carried  her  into  the  house  with  a  cry 
of  joy.  She  had  not  even  time  to  look  around  her,  ere 
he  had  placed  her  in  an  arm-chair,  and  fallen  on  his 
knees  before  her.  "  At  last  I  see  you  again,  my  beloved 
Marguerite,"  he  exclaimed.  "  You  are  mine — nothing 
shall  part  us  again  !  " 

They  sobbed  in  each  other's  arms.  They  could  bear 
adversity  unmoved;  but  their  composure  deserted  them 
in  this  excess  of  happiness;  and  standing  in  the  door- 
way, Madame  Ferailleur  felt  the  tears  come  to  her  eyes 
as  she  stood  watching  them. 

"  How  can  I  tell  you  all  that  I  have  sufïered  !  "  said 
Pascal,  whose  voice  was  hoarse  with  feeling.  "  The 
papers  have  told  you  all  the  details,  I  suppose.  How  I 
was  accused  of  cheating  at  cards;  how  the  vile  epithet 
*  thief  '  was  cast  in  my  face  ;  how  they  tried  to  search 
me  ;  how  my  most  intimate  friends  deserted  me  ;  how  I 
was  virtually  expelled  from  the  Palais  de  Justice.  All 
this  is  terrible,  is  it  not?  Ah,  well!  it  is  nothing  in 
comparison  with  the  intense,  unendurable  anguish  I 
experienced  in  thinking  that  you  believed  the  infamous 
calumny  which  disgraced  me." 

Marguerite  rose  to  her  feet.  "  You  thought  that  !  " 
she  exclaimed.  "  You  believed  that  I  doubted  you  ?  I  ! 
Like  you,  I  have  been  accused  of  robbery  myself.  Do 
you  believe  me  guilty?  " 

"  Good  God  !    /  suspect  you  !  " 

"  Then  why " 

"  I  was  mad,  Marguerite,  my  only  love,  I  was  mad  ! 
But  who  would  not  have  lost  his  senses  under  such  cir- 
cumstances? It  was  the  very  day  after  this  atrocious 
conspiracy.  I  had  seen  Madame  Léon,  and  had  trusted 
her  with  a  letter  for  you  in  which  I  entreated  you  to 
grant  me  five  minutes'  conversation." 


382     BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

"  Alas  !  I  never  received  it." 

"  I  know  that  now  ;  but  then  I  was  deceived.  I  went 
to  the  little  garden  gate  to  await  your  coming,  but  it 
was  Madame  Léon  who  appeared.  She  brought  me  a 
note  written  in  pencil  and  signed  with  your  name,  bid- 
ding me  an  eternal  farewell.  And,  fool  that  I  was,  I 
did  not  see  that  the  note  was  a  forgery  !  " 

Mademoiselle  Marguerite  was  amazed.  The  veil  was 
now  torn  aside,  and  the  truth  revealed  to  her.  Now  she 
remembered  Madame  Leon's  embarrassment  when  she 
met  her  returning  from  the  garden  on  the  night  follow- 
ing the  count's  death.  "  Ah,  well  !  Pascal,"  she  said, 
"  do  you  know  what  I  was  doing  at  almost  the  same 
moment?  Alarmed  at  having  received  no  news  from 
you,  I  hastened  to  the  Rue  d'Ulm,  where  I  learned  that 
you  had  sold  your  furniture  and  started  for  America. 
Any  other  woman  might  have  believed  herself  deserted 
under  such  circumstances,  but  not  L  I  felt  sure  that 
you  had  not  fled  in  ignominious  fashion.  I  was  con- 
vinced that  you  had  only  concealed  yourself  for  a  time 
in  order  to  strike  your  enemies  more  surely." 

"  Do  not  shame  me,  Marguerite.  It  is  true  that  of 
us  two  I  showed  myself  the  weaker." 

Lost  in  the  rapture  of  the  present  moment,  they  had 
forgotten  the  past  and  the  future,  the  agony  they  had 
endured,  the  dangers  that  still  threatened  them,  and 
even  the  existence  of  their  enemies. 

But  Madame  Ferailleur  was  watching.  She  pointed 
to  the  clock,  and  earnestly  exclaimed  :  "  Time  is  passing, 
my  son.  Each  moment  that  is  wasted  endangers  our 
success.  Should  any  suspicion  bring  Madame  Van- 
trasson  here,  all  would  be  lost." 

"  She  cannot  come  upon  us  unawares,  my  dear 
mother.     Chupin   has   promised   not  to  lose  sight  of 


HE  HAD  PLACED  HER  IN  AN  ARM-CHAIR,  AXD  FALLEN  ON  HIS  KNEES 
BEFORE  HER.  "  AT  LAST  I  SEE  YOU  AGAIN,  MY  BELOVED  MAR- 
GUERITE" 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE     383 

her.  If  she  stirs  from  her  shop,  he  will  hasten  here 
and  throw  a  stone  against  the  shutters  to  warn  us." 

But  even  this  did  not  satisfy  Madame  Ferailleur. 

"  You  forget,  Pascal,"  she  insisted,  "  that  Mademoi- 
selle Marguerite  must  be  at  home  again  by  ten  o'clock, 
if  she  consents  to  the  ordeal  you  feel  obliged  to  impose 
upon  her." 

This  was  the  voice  of  duty  recalling  Pascal  to  the 
stern  realities  of  life.  He  slowly  rose,  conquered  his 
emotion,  and,  after  reflecting  for  a  moment,  said  : 
"  First  of  all,  Marguerite,  I  owe  you  the  truth  and  an 
exact  statement  of  our  situation.  Circumstances  have 
compelled  me  to  act  without  consulting  you.  Have  I 
done  right  or  wrong?  You  shall  judge."  And  without 
stopping  to  listen  to  the  girl's  protestations,  he  rapidly 
explained  how  he  had  managed  to  win  M.  de  Valorsay's 
confidence,  discover  his  plans,  and  become  his  trusted 
accomplice.  "  This  scoundrel's  plan  is  very  simple,"  he 
continued.  "He  is  determined  to  marry  you.  Why? 
Because,  though  you  are  not  aware  of  it,  you  are  rich, 
and  the  sole  heiress  to  the  fortune  of  the  Count  de 
Chalusse,  your  father.  This  surprises  you,  does  it 
not  ?  Very  well  !  listen  to  me.  Deceived  by  the  Mar- 
quis de  Valorsay,  the  Count  de  Chalusse  had  promised 
him  your  hand.  These  arrangements  were  nearly  com- 
pleted, though  you  had  not  been  informed  of  them.  In 
fact,  everything  had  been  decided.  At  the  outset,  how- 
ever, a  grave  difficulty  had  presented  itself.  The  mar- 
quis wished  your  father  to  acknowledge  you  before  your 
marriage,  but  this  he  refused  to  do.  '  It  would  expose 
me  to  the  most  frightful  dangers,'  he  declared.  '  How- 
ever, I  will  recognize  Marguerite  as  my  daughter  in  my 
will,  and,  at  the  same  time,  leave  all  my  property  to 
her.'    But  the  marquis  would  not  listen  to  this  proposal. 


384    BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

*  I  don't  doubt  your  good  intentions,  my  dear  count/ 
said  he,  '  but  suppose  this  will  should  be  contested,  your 
property  might  pass  into  other  hands.'  This  difficulty 
put  a  stop  to  the  proceedings  for  some  time.  The 
marquis  asked  for  guarantees  ;  the  other  refused  to  give 
them — until,  at  last,  M.  de  Chalusse  discovered  an  ex- 
pedient which  would  satisfy  both  parties.  He  confided 
to  M.  de  Valorsay's  keeping  a  will  in  which  he  recog- 
nized you  as  his  daughter,  and  bequeathed  you  his  en- 
tire fortune.  This  document,  the  validity  of  which  is 
unquestionable,  has  been  carefully  preserved  by  the 
marquis.  He  has  not  spoken  of  its  existence;  and  he 
would  destroy  it  rather  than  restore  it  to  you  at  present. 
But  as  soon  as  you  became  his  wife,  he  intended  to  pro- 
duce it  and  thus  obtain  possession  of  the  count's 
millions." 

"  Ah  !  the  old  justice  of  the  peace  was  not  mistaken,'* 
murmured  Mademoiselle  Marguerite. 

Pascal  did  not  hear  her.  All  his  faculties  were  ab- 
sorbed in  the  attempt  he  was  making  to  give  a  clear  and 
concise  explanation,  for  he  had  much  to  say,  and  it  was 
growing  late.  "  As  for  the  enormous  sum  you  have 
been  accused  of  taking,"  he  continued,  "  I  know  what 
has  become  of  it  ;  it  is  in  the  hands  of  M.  de  Fondège." 

"  I  know  that,  Pascal — I'm  sure  of  it  ;  but  the  proof, 
the  proof  !  " 

"  The  proof  exists,  and,  like  the  will,  it  is  in  the  hands 
of  the  Marquis  de  Valorsay." 

"  Is  it  possible  !  Great  Heavens  !  You  are  sure  you 
are  not  deceived  ?  " 

"  I  have  seen  the  proof,  and  it  is  overpowering,  irre- 
futable !  I  have  touched  it — I  have  held  it  in  my  hands. 
And  it  explains  everything  which  may  have  seemed 
strange  and  incomprehensible  to  you.    The  letter  which 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE     385 

M.  de  Chalusse  received  on  the  day  of  his  death  was 
written  by  his  sister.  She  asked  in  it  for  her  share  of 
the  family  estate,  threatening  him  with  a  terrible  scan- 
dal if  he  refused  to  comply  with  her  request.  Had  the 
count  decided  to  brave  this  scandal  rather  than  yield? 
We  have  good  reason  to  suppose  so.  However,  this 
much  is  certain  :  he  had  a  terrible  hatred,  not  so  much 
for  his  sister,  perhaps,  as  for  the  man  who  had  seduced 
her,  and  afterward  married  her,  actuated  by  avaricious 
motives  alone.  He  had  sworn  thousands  of  times  that 
neither  husband  nor  wife  should  ever  have  a  penny  of 
the  large  fortune  which  really  belonged  to  them.  Be- 
lieving that  a  lawsuit  was  now  inevitable,  and  wishing 
to  conceal  his  wealth,  he  was  greatly  embarrassed  by 
the  large  amount  of  money  he  had  on  hand.  What 
should  he  do  with  it?  Where  could  he  hide  it?  He 
finally  decided  to  intrust  it  to  the  keeping  of  M.  de 
Fondège,  who  was  known  as  an  eccentric  man,  but 
whose  honesty  seemed  to  be  above  suspicion.  So,  when 
he  left  home,  on  the  afternoon  of  his  illness,  he  took 
the  package  of  bank-notes  and  bonds,  which  you  had 
noticed  in  the  escritoire  that  morning,  away  with  him. 
We  shall  never  know  what  passed  between  your  father 
and  the  General — we  can  only  surmise.  But  what  I 
do  know,  and  what  I  shall  be  able  to  prove,  is  that  M. 
de  Fondège  accepted  the  trust,  and  that  he  gave  an 
acknowledgment  of  it  in  the  form  of  a  letter,  which 
read  as  follows  : 


<(  < 


My  Dear  Count  de  Chalusse — I  hereby  ac- 
knowledge the  receipt,  on  Thursday,  October  15,  186 — , 
of  the  sum  of  two  millions,  two  hundred  and  fifty  thou- 
sand francs,  which  I  shall  deposit,  in  my  name,  at  the 
Bank  of  France,  subject  to  the  orders  of  Mademoiselle 
Marguerite,  your  daughter,  on  the  day  she  presents  this 


386     BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

letter.     And  believe,  my  dear  count,  in  the  absolute 
devotion  of  your  old  comrade, 

"  General  de  Fondège.'  " 

Mademoiselle  Marguerite  was  thunderstruck.  "  Who 
can  have  furnished  you  with  these  particulars?"  she 
inquired. 

"  The  Marquis  de  Valorsay,  my  dearest  ;  and  I  will 
explain  how  he  was  enabled  to  do  so.  M.  de  Fondège 
wrote  the  address  of  his  '  old  comrade  '  on  this  letter, 
which  was  folded  and  sealed,  but  not  enclosed  in  an 
envelope.  M.  de  Chalusse  proposed  to  post  it  himself, 
so  that  the  official  stamp  might  authenticate  its  date. 
But  on  reflection,  he  became  uneasy.  He  felt  that  this 
tiny,  perishable  scrap  of  paper  would  be  the  only  proof 
of  the  deposit  which  he  had  confided  to  M.  de  Fon- 
dège's  honor.  This  scrap  might  be  lost,  burned,  or 
stolen.  Then  what  would  happen?  He  had  so  often 
seen  trustees  betray  the  confidence  of  which  they  had 
seemed  worthy.  So  M.  de  Chalusse  racked  his  brains 
to  discover  a  means  of  protection  from  an  improbable 
but  possible  misfortune.  He  found  it.  Passing  a  sta- 
tioner's shop,  he  went  in,  purchased  one  of  those  letter- 
presses which  merchants  use  in  their  correspondence, 
and,  under  pretext  of  trying  it,  took  a  copy  of  M.  de 
Fondège's  letter.  Having  done  this,  he  placed  the  copy  in 
'an  envelope  addressed  to  the  Marquis  de  Valorsay,  and, 
with  his  heart  relieved  of  all  anxiety,  posted  it  at  the 
same  time  as  the  original  letter.  A  few  moments  later 
he  got  into  the  cab  in  which  he  was  stricken  down  with 
apoplexy." 

Extraordinary  as  Pascal's  explanations  must  have 
seemed  to  her,  Marguerite  did  not  doubt  their  accuracy 
in  the  least.     "  Then  it  is  the  copy  of  this  letter  which 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE     387 
you   saw   in  the  possession  of  the  Marquis  de  Val- 


orsay 


"  Yes." 

"And  the  original?" 

"  M.  de  Fondège  alone  can  tell  what  has  become  of 
that.  It  is  evident  that  he  has  somehow  succeeded  in 
obtaining  possession  of  it.  Would  he  have  dared  to 
squander  money  as  he  has  done  if  he  had  not  been 
convinced  that  there  was  no  proof  of  his  guilt  in  ex- 
istence? Perhaps  on  hearing  of  the  count's  sudden 
death  he  bribed  the  concierge  at  the  Hôtel  de  Chalusse 
to  watch  for  this  letter  and  return  it  to  him.  But  on 
this  subject  I  have  only  conjectures  to  offer.  If  they 
wish  you  to  marry  their  son,  it  is  probably  because  it 
seems  too  hard  that  you  should  be  left  in  abject  poverty 
while  they  are  enjoying  the  fortune  they  have  stolen 
from  you.  The  vilest  scoundrels  have  their  scruples. 
Besides,  a  marriage  with  their  son  would  protect  them 
against  any  possible  mischance  in  the  future." 

He  was  silent  for  a  moment,  and  then  more  slowly 
resumed  :  "  You  see,  Marguerite,  we  have  clear,  palpa- 
ble, and  irrefutable  proofs  of  your  innocence;  but  in 
my  efforts  to  clear  my  own  name  of  disgrace,  I  have 
been  far  less  fortunate.  I  have  tried  in  vain  to  collect 
material  proofs  of  the  conspiracy  against  me.  It  is 
only  by  proving  the  guilt  of  the  Marquis  de  Valorsay 
and  the  Viscount  de  Coralth  that  I  can  establish  my 
innocence,  and  so  far  I  am  powerless  to  do  so." 

Mademoiselle  Marguerite's  face  brightened  with  su- 
preme joy.  "  Then  I  can  serve  you,  in  my  turn,  my 
only  love,"  she  exclaimed.  "  Ah  !  blessed  be  God  who 
inspired  me,  and  who  thus  rewards  me  for  an  hour  of 
courage.  My  poor  father's  plan  also  occurred  to  me, 
Pascal.    Was  it  not  strange?    The  material  proof  of 


388    BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

your  innocence  which  you  have  sought  for  in  vain,  is 
in  my  possession,  written  and  signed  by  the  Marquis 
de  Valorsay.  Like  M.  de  Fondcge,  he  beheves  that 
the  letter  which  proves  his  guilt  is  annihilated.  He 
burned  it  himself,  and  yet  it  exists."  So  saying,  she 
drew  from  her  bosom  one  of  the  copies  which  she 
had  received  from  Car j at  the  photographer,  and  handed 
it  to  Pascal,  adding,  "  Look  !  " 

Pascal  eagerly  perused  the  marvellous  fac-simile  of 
the  letter  which  the  marquis  had  written  to  Madame 
Léon.  "  Ah  !  this  is  the  scoundrel's  death  warrant," 
he  exclaimed,  exultantly.  And  approaching  Madame 
Ferailleur,  who  still  stood  leaning  against  the  door, 
silent  and  motionless  :  "  Look,  mother,"  he  repeated, 
"  look  !  " 

And  he  pointed  to  this  paragraph  which  was  so  con- 
vincing and  so  explicit,  that  the  most  exacting  jury 
would  have  asked  for  no  further  evidence.  "  I  have 
formed  a  plan  which  will  completely  efface  all  remem- 
brance of  that  cursed  P.  F.,  in  case  any  one  could  con- 
descend to  think  of  him,  after  the  disgrace  we  fastened 
upon  him  the  other  evening  at  the  house  of  Madame 
d'A ." 

''  Nor  is  this  all,"  resumed  Mademoiselle  Marguerite. 
"  There  are  other  letters  which  will  prove  that  this  plot 
was  the  marquis's  work  and  which  give  the  name  of  his 
accomplice,  Coralth.  And  these  letters  are  in  the  pos- 
session of  a  man  of  dubious  integrity,  who  was  once 
the  marquis's  ally,  but  who  has  now  become  his 
enemy.  He  is  known  as  Isidore  Fortunat,  and  lives  in 
the  Place  de  la  Bourse." 

Marguerite  felt  that  Madame  Ferailleur's  keen  glance 
was  riveted  upon  her.  She  intuitively  divined  what 
was  passing  in  the  mind  of  the  puritanical  old  lady, 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE    389 

and  realized  that  her  whole  future,  and  the  happiness 
of  her  entire  wedded  life,  depended  upon  her  conduct 
at  that  moment.  So,  desirous  of  making  a  full  con- 
fession, she  hastily  exclaimed  :  "  My  conduct  may  have 
seemed  strange  in  a  young  girl,  Pascal.  A  timid,  in- 
experienced girl,  who  had  been  carefully  kept  from  all 
knowledge  of  life  and  evil,  would  have  been  crushed  by 
such  a  burden  of  disgrace,  and  could  only  have  wept 
and  prayed.  I  did  weep  and  pray  ;  but  I  also  struggled 
and  fought.  In  the  hour  of  peril  I  found  myself  en- 
dowed with  some  of  the  courage  and  energy  which  dis- 
tinguished the  poor  women  of  the  people  among  whom 
I  formerly  earned  my  bread.  The  teachings  and  mis- 
eries of  the  past  were  not  lost  to  me  !  "  And  as  simply 
as  if  she  were  telling  the  most  natural  thing  in  the 
world,  she  described  the  struggle  she  had  undertaken 
against  the  world,  strong  in  her  faith  in  Pascal  and  in 
his  love. 

"  Ah,  you  are  a  noble  and  courageous  girl  !  "  ex- 
claimed Madame  Ferailleur.  "  You  are  worthy  of 
my  son,  and  you  will  proudly  guard  our  honest 
name  !  " 

For  some  little  time  already  the  obstinate  old  lady 
had  been  struggling  against  the  sympathetic  emotion 
that  filled  her  heart,  and  big  tears  were  coursing  down 
her  wrinkled  cheeks. 

Unable  to  restrain  herself  any  longer,  she  now  threw 
both  arms  around  Marguerite's  neck,  and  drew  her 
toward  her  in  a  long  embrace,  murmuring  :  "  Mar- 
guerite, my  daughter  !  Ah  !  how  unjust  my  prejudices 
were  !  " 

It  might  be  thought  that  Pascal  was  transported  with 
joy  on  hearing  this,  but  no;  the  lines  of  care  on  his 
forehead  deepened,  as  he  said  :  "  Happiness  is  so  near  ! 


390    BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

Why  must  a  final  test,  another  humiliation,  separate  us 
from  it?" 

But  Marguerite  now  felt  strong  enough  to  meet  even 
martyrdom  with  a  smile.  "  Speak,  Pascal  !  "  said  she, 
"  don't  you  see  that  it  is  almost  ten  o'clock?  " 

He  hesitated;  there  was  grief  in  his  eyes  and  his 
breath  came  quick  and  hard,  as  he  resumed  :  "  For  your 
sake  and  mine,  we  must  conquer,  at  any  price.  This  is 
the  only  reason  that  can  justify  the  horrible  expedient 
I  have  to  suggest.  M.  de  Valorsay,  as  you  know,  has 
boasted  of  his  power  to  overcome  your  resistance,  and 
he  really  believes  that  he  possesses  this  power.  Why 
I  have  not  killed  him  again  and  again  when  he  has  been 
at  my  mercy,  I  can  scarcely  understand.  The  only 
thing  that  gave  me  power  to  restrain  myself  was  my 
desire  for  as  sure,  as  terrible,  and  as  public  a  revenge 
as  the  humiliation  he  inflicted  on  me.  His  plan  for 
your  ruin  is  such  as  only  a  scoundrel  like  himself  could 
conceive.  With  the  assistance  of  his  vile  tool,  Coralth, 
he  has  formed  a  league,  offensive  and  defensive,  with 
the  son  of  the  Count  de  Chalusse's  sister,  who  is  the 
only  acknowledged  heir  at  this  moment — a  young  man 
destitute  of  heart  and  intelligence,  and  inordinately 
vain,  but  neither  better  nor  worse  than  many  others 
who  figure  respectably  in  society.  His  name  is  Wilkie 
Gordon.  The  marquis  has  acquired  great  influ- 
ence over  him,  and  has  persuaded  him  that  it 
is  his  duty  to  denounce  you  to  the  authori- 
ties. He  has,  in  short,  accused  you  of  de- 
frauding the  heirs  of  the  Chalusse  estate  of 
two  millions  of  francs  and  also  of  poisoning  the 
count." 

The  girl  shrugged  her  shoulders  disdainfully.  "  As 
for  the  robbery,  we  have  an  answer  to  that,"  she  an- 


BARON   TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE    391 

swered,  "  and  as    regards    the  poisoning — really    the 
accusation  is  too  absurd  !  " 

But  Pascal  still  looked  gloomy.  "  The  matter  is 
more  serious  than  you  suppose,"  he  replied.  "  They 
have  found  a  physician — a  vile,  cowardly  scoundrel — 
who  for  a  certain  sum  has  consented  to  appear  in  sup- 
port of  the  accusation." 

"  Dr.  Jodon,  I  presume  !  " 

"  Yes  ;  and  this  is  not  all.  The  count's  escritoire  con- 
tains the  vial  of  medicine  of  which  he  drank  a  portion 
on  the  day  of  his  death.  Well,  to-morrow  night, 
Madame  Léon  will  open  the  garden  gate  of  the  Hôtel 
de  Chalusse  and  admit  a  rascal  who  will  abstract  the 
vial." 

Marguerite  shuddered.  Now  she  understood  the 
fiendish  cunning  of  the  plot.  "  It  might  ruin  me  !  "  she 
murmured. 

Pascal  nodded  affirmatively.  "  M.  de  Valorsay 
wishes  you  to  consider  yourself  as  irretrievably  lost, 
and  then  he  intends  to  ofifer  to  save  you  on  condition 
that  you  consent  to  marry  him.  I  should  say,  however, 
that  M.  Wilkie  is  ignorant  of  the  atrocious  projects 
he  is  abetting.  They  are  known  only  to  the  marquis 
and  M.  de  Coralth  ;  and  it  is  I  who,  under  the  name  of 
Mauméjan,  act  as  their  adviser.  It  was  to  me  that  the 
marquis  sent  M.  Wilkie  for  assistance  in  drawing  up 
this  accusation.  I  myself  wrote  out  the  denunciation, 
which  was  as  terrible  and  as  formidable  as  our  bitterest 
enemy  could  possibly  desire,  combining,  as  it  did,  with 
perfidious  art,  the  reports  of  the  valets  and  the  sus- 
picions of  the  physician,  and  establishing  the 
connection  between  the  robbery  and  the  murder. 
It  finished  by  demanding  a  thorough  investi- 
gation.     And    M.    Wilkie    copied    and    signed    this 


392    BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

document,    and    carried    it    to    the  prosecution  office 
himself." 

Mademoiselle  Marguerite  sank  half- fainting  into  an 
arm-chair.     "  You  have  done  this  !  "  she  faltered. 

"  It  was  necessary,  my  daughter,"  whispered  Mad- 
ame Ferailleur. 

"  Yes,  it  was  necessary,  absolutely  necessary,"  re- 
peated Pascal,  "  as  you  will  see.  Justice,  which  is  a 
human  institution,  and  limited  in  its  powers,  cannot 
fathom  motives,  read  thoughts,  or  interfere  with  plans, 
however  abominable  they  may  be,  or  however  near 
realization.  Before  it  can  interfere,  the  law  must  have 
material,  tangible  proof,  convincing  to  the  senses.  Until 
you  are  arrested,  the  crimes  committed  by  M.  de  Val- 
orsay,  and  those  associated  with  him,  do  not  come 
within  the  reach  of  human  justice;  but  as  soon  as  you 
are  in  prison,  I  can  hasten  to  our  friend  the  justice  of 
the  peace,  and  we  shall  go  at  once  to  the  investigating 
magistrate  and  explain  everything.  Now,  when  your 
innocence  and  the  guilt  of  your  accusers  have  been 
established,  what  do  you  fancy  the  authorities  will  do? 
They  will  wait  until  your  enemies  declare  themselves, 
in  order  to  capture  them  all  at  once,  and  prevent  the 
escape  of  a  single  one.  To-morrow  night  some  clever 
detectives  will  watch  the  Hôtel  de  Chalusse,  and  just 
as  Madame  Léon  and  the  wretch  with  her  think  them- 
selves sure  of  success,  they  will  be  caught  in  the  very 
act  and  arrested.  When  they  are  examined  by  a  mag- 
istrate, who  is  conversant  with  the  whole  afifair,  can 
they  deny  their  guilt  ?  No  ;  certainly  not.  Acting  upon 
their  confession,  the  authorities  will  force  an  entrance 
into  Valorsay's  house,  where  they  will  find  your 
father's  will  and  the  receipt  given  by  M.  de  Fondège — 
in  a  word,  all  the  proofs  of  their  guilt.    And  while  this 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE    393 

search  is  going  on,  all  your  enemies,  reassured  by  your 
arrest,  will  be  at  a  grand  soiree  given  by  Baron 
Trigault.    I  shall  be  there  as  well." 

Mademoiselle  Marguerite  had  mastered  her  mo- 
mentary weakness.  She  rose  to  her  feet,  and  in  a  firm 
voice  exclaimed  :  "  You  have  acted  rightly." 

"  Ah  !  there  was  no  other  way.  And  yet  I  wished  to 
see  you,  to  learn  if  this  course  were  too  repugnant  to 
you." 

She  interrupted  him  with  a  gesture.  "  When  shall  I 
be  arrested?"  she  asked,  quietly. 

"  This  evening  or  to-morrow,"  was  his  answer. 

"  Very  well  !  I  have  only  one  request  to  make.  The 
Fondèges  have  a  son  who  has  no  hand  in  the  affair, 
but  who  will  be  more  severely  punished  than  his 
parents,  if  we  do  not  spare  them.    Could  you  not ' 

"  I  can  do  nothing.  Marguerite.  I  am  powerless 
now." 

Everything  was  soon  arranged.  Marguerite  raised 
her  forehead  to  Pascal  for  his  parting  kiss,  and  went 
away  accompanied  by  Madame  Ferailleur,  who  escorted 
her  to  the  corner  of  the  Rue  Boursault.  The  General 
and  his  wife  had  returned  home  in  advance  of  Mar- 
guerite. She  found  them  sitting  in  the  drawing-room, 
w^ith  distorted  faces  and  teeth  chattering  with  fear. 
With  them  was  a  bearded  man  who,  as  soon  as  she 
appeared,  exclaimed: 

"  You  are  Mademoiselle  Marguerite,  are  you  not  ?  I 
arrest  you  in  the  name  of  the  law.  There  is  my  war- 
rant."   And  without  more  ado  he  led  her  away. 


394    BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 


XX. 


Money,  which  nowadays  has  taken  the  place  of  the 
good  fairies  of  former  times,  had  gratified  M.  Wilkie's 
every  longing  in  a  single  night.  Without  any  period 
of  transition,  dreamlike  as  it  were,  he  had  passed  from 
what  he  called  "  straitened  circumstances  "  to  the  splen- 
did enjoyment  of  a  princely  fortune.  Madame  d'Ar- 
gelès's  renunciation  had  been  so  correctly  drawn  up, 
that  as  soon  as  he  presented  his  claims  and  displayed 
his  credentials  he  was  placed  in  possession  of  the  Cha- 
lusse  estate.  It  is  true  that  a  few  trifling  difficulties 
presented  themselves.  For  instance,  the  old  justice  of 
the  peace  who  had  affixed  the  seals  refused  to  remove 
them  from  certain  articles  of  furniture,  especially  from 
the  late  count's  escritoire,  without  an  order  from  the 
court,  and  several  days  were  needed  to  obtain  this.  But 
what  did  that  matter  to  M.  Wilkie?  The  house,  with 
its  splendid  reception-rooms,  pictures,  statuary  and  gar- 
dens, was  at  his  disposal,  and  he  installed  himself 
therein  at  once.  Twenty  horses  neighed  and  stamped 
in  his  stables  ;  there  were  at  least  a  dozen  carriages  in 
the  coach-house.  He  devoted  his  attention  exclusively 
to  the  horses  and  vehicles;  but  acting  upon  the  advice 
of  Casimir,  who  had  become  his  valet  and  oracle,  he 
retained  all  the  former  servants  of  the  house,  from 
Bourigeau  the  concierge  down  to  the  humblest  scullery 
maid.  Still,  he  gave  them  to  understand  that  this  was 
only  a  temporary  arrangement,  A  man  like  himself, 
living  in  this  progressive  age,  could  scarcely  be  ex- 
pected to  content  himself  with  what  had  satisfied  the 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE    395 

Count  de  Chalusse.  *'  For  I  have  my  plans,"  he  re- 
marked to  Casimir,  "  but  let  Paris  wait  awhile." 

He  repudiated  his  former  friends.  Costard  and  Ser- 
pillon,  pretended  viscounts  though  they  were,  were 
quite  beneath  the  notice  of  a  Gordon-Chalusse,  as  M. 
Wilkie  styled  himself  on  his  visiting  cards.  However, 
he  purchased  their  share  of  Pompier  de  Nanterre,  feel- 
ing convinced  that  this  remarkable  steeplechaser  had  a 
brilliant  future  before  him.  He  did  not  trouble  himself 
to  any  great  extent  about  his  mother.  Like  every  one 
else,  he  knew  that  she  had  disappeared,  but  nothing 
further.  On  the  other  hand,  the  thought  of  his 
father,  the  terrible  chevalier  d'industrie,  hung  over  his 
joy  like  a  pall  ;  and  each  time  the  great  entrance  bell 
announced  a  visitor,  he  trembled,  turned  pale,  and  mut- 
tered :  "  Perhaps  it's  he  !  " 

Tortured  by  this  fear,  he  clung  closely  to  the  Mar- 
quis de  Valorsay  as  if  he  felt  that  this  distinguished 
friend  was  a  powerful  support.  Besides,  people  of 
rank  and  distinction  naturally  exercised  a  powerful  at- 
traction over  him,  and  he  fancied  he  grew  several 
inches  taller  when,  in  some  public  place,  in  the  street, 
or  a  restaurant,  he  was  able  to  call  out,  "  I  say,  Val- 
orsay, my  good  friend,"  or,  "  Upon  my  word  !  my  dear 
marquis  !  " 

M.  de  Valorsay  received  these  eflFusions  graciously 
enough,  although,  in  point  of  fact,  he  was  terribly  bored 
by  the  platitudes  of  his  new  acquaintance.  He  intended 
to  send  him  to  Coventry  later  on,  but  just  now  M. 
Wilkie  was  too  useful  to  be  ignored.  So  he  had  intro- 
duced him  to  his  club,  and  was  seen  with  him  every- 
where— in  the  Bois,  at  the  restaurants,  and  the  theatres. 
At  times,  some  of  his  friends  inquired  :  "  Who  is  that 
queer  little  fellow  ?  "  with  a  touch  of  irony  in  their 


396    BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

tone,  but  when  the  marquis  carelessly  answered  :  "  A 
poor  devil  who  has  just  come  into  possession  of  a 
property  worth  twenty  millions  !  "  they  became  serious, 
and  requested  the  pleasure  and  honor  of  an  introduc- 
tion to  this  fortunate  young  man. 

So  M.  de  Valorsay  had  invited  Gordon-Chalusse  to 
accompany  him  to  Baron  Trigault's  approaching  fête. 
It  was  to  be  an  entertainment  for  gentlemen  only,  a 
monster  card-party  ;  but  every  one  knew  the  wealthy 
baron,  and  no  doubt  with  a  view  of  stimulating  curios- 
ity he  had  declared,  and  the  Figaro  had  repeated,  that 
he  had  a  great  surprise  in  store  for  his  guests.  Oh  ! 
such  a  surprise  !  They  could  have  no  idea  what  it  was  ! 
This  fête  was  to  take  place  on  the  second  day  after 
Mademoiselle  Marguerite's  arrest;  and  on  the  ap- 
pointed evening,  between  nine  and  ten  o'clock,  M.  de 
Valorsay  and  his  friend  Coralth  sat  together  in  the 
former's  smoking-room  waiting  for  Wilkie  to  call  for 
them,  as  had  been  agreed  upon.  They  were  both  in 
the  best  of  spirits.  The  viscount's  apprehensions  had 
been  entirely  dispelled  ;  and  the  marquis  had  quite  for- 
gotten the  twinges  of  pain  in  his  injured  limb.  "  Mar- 
guerite will  only  leave  prison  to  marry  me,"  said  M. 
de  Valorsay,  triumphantly  ;  and  he  added  :  "  What  a 
willing  tool  this  Wilkie  is!  A  single  word  sufficed  to 
make  him  give  all  his  servants  leave  of  absence.  The 
Hôtel  de  Chalusse  will  be  deserted,  and  Madame  Léon 
and  Vantrasson  can  operate  at  their  leisure." 

It  was  ten  o'clock  when  M.  Wilkie  made  his  appear- 
ance. "  Come,  my  good  friends  !  "  said  he,  "  my  car- 
riage is  below." 

They  started  oflF  at  once,  and  five  minutes  later  they 
were  ushered  into  the  presence  of  Baron  Trigault,  who 
received  M.  Wilkie  as  if  he  had  never  seen  him  before. 


BARON   TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE     397 

There  was  quite  a  crowd  already.  At  least  three  or 
four  hundred  people  had  assembled  in  the  Baron's  re- 
ception-rooms, and  among  them  were  several  former 
habitués  of  Madame  d'Argelès's  house;  one  could  also 
espy  M.  de  Fondègc  ferociously  twirling  his  mustaches 
as  usual,  together  with  Kami-Bey,  who  was  conspicu- 
ous by  reason  of  his  portly  form  and  eternal  red  fez. 
However,  among  these  men,  all  noticeable  for  their 
studied  elegance  of  attire  and  manner,  and  all  of  them 
known  to  M.  de  Valorsay,  there  moved  numerous 
others  of  very  different  appearance.  Their  waistcoats 
were  less  open,  and  their  clothes  did  not  fit  them  as 
perfectly;  on  the  other  hand,  there  was  something  else 
than  a  look  of  idiotic  self-complacency  on  their  faces. 
"Who  can  these  people  be?"  whispered  the  marquis 
to  M.  de  Coralth.  "  They  look  like  lawyers  or  magis- 
trates." But  although  he  said  this  he  did  not  really 
believe  it,  and  it  was  without  the  slightest  feeling  of 
anxiety  that  he  strolled  from  group  to  group,  shaking 
hands  with  his  friends  and  introducing  M.  Wilkie. 

A  strange  rumor  was  in  circulation  among  the 
guests.  ]\Iany  of  them  declared — where  could  they 
have  heard  such  a  thing? — that  in  consequence  of  a 
quarrel  with  her  husband,  Madame  Trigault  had  left 
Paris  the  evening  before.  They  even  went  so  far  as 
to  repeat  her  parting  words  to  the  Baron  :  "  You  will 
never  see  me  again,"  she  had  said.  "  You  are  amply 
avenged.  Farewell  !  "  However,  the  best  informed 
among  the  guests,  the  folks  who  were  thoroughly  ac- 
quainted with  all  the  scandals  of  the  day,  declared  the 
story  false,  and  said  that  if  the  baroness  had  really  fled, 
handsome  Viscount  de  Coralth  would  not  appear  so 
calm  and  smiling. 

The  report  was  true,  however.     But  M.  de  Coralth 


398    BARON   TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

did  not  trouble  himself  much  about  the  baroness  now. 
Had  he  not  got  in  his  pocket  M.  Wilkie's  signature 
insuring  him  upward  of  half  a  million?  Standing 
near  one  of  the  windows  in  the  main  reception-room, 
between  the  Marquis  de  Valorsay  and  M.  Wilkie,  the 
brilliant  viscount  was  gayly  chatting  with  them,  when 
a  footman,  in  a  voice  loud  enough  to  interrupt  all  con- 
versation, suddenly  announced  :  "  M.  Mauméjan  !  " 

It  seemed  such  a  perfectly  natural  thing  to  M,  de 
Valorsay  that  Mauméjan,  as  one  of  the  baron's  busi- 
ness agents,  should  be  received  at  his  house,  that  he 
was  not  in  the  least  disturbed.  But  M.  de  Coralth, 
having  heard  the  name,  wished  to  see  the  man  who  had 
aided  and  advised  the  marquius  so  effectually.  He 
abruptly  turned,  and  as  he  did  so  the  words  he  would 
have  spoken  died  upon  his  lips.  He  became  livid,  his 
eyes  seemed  to  start  from  their  sockets,  and  it  was 
with  difficulty  that  he  ejaculated:  "  He!  " 

"  Who  ?  "  inquired  the  astonished  marquis. 

"Look!" 

M.  de  Valorsay  did  so,  and  to  his  utter  amazement 
he  perceived  a  numerous  party  in  the  rear  of  the  man 
announced  under  the  name  of  Mauméjan.  First  came 
Mademoiselle  Marguerite,  leaning  on  the  arm  of  the 
white-haired  magistrate,  and  then  Madame  Ferailleur; 
next  M.  Isidore  Fortunat,  and  finally  Chupin — Victor 
Chupin,  resplendent  in  a  handsome,  bran-new,  black 
dress-suit. 

The  marquis  could  no  longer  fail  to  understand  the 
truth.  He  realized  who  Mauméjan  really  was,  and  the 
audacious  comedy  he  had  been  duped  by.  He  was  so 
frightfully  agitated  that  five  or  six  persons  sprang 
forward  exclaiming  :  "  What  is  the  matter,  marquis  ? 
Are  you  ill  ?  "    But  he  made  no  reply.    He  felt  that  he 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE    399 

was  caught  in  a  trap,  and  he  glanced  wildly  around  him 
seeking  for  some  loophole  of  escape. 

However,  the  word  of  command  had  evidently  been 
given.  Suddenly  all  the  guests  scattered  about  the 
various  drawing-rooms  poured  into  the  main  hall,  and 
the  doors  were  closed.  Then,  with  a  solemnity  of  man- 
ner which  no  one  had  ever  seen  him  display  before, 
Baron  Trigault  took  the  so-called  Mauméjan  by  the 
hand  and  led  him  into  the  centre  of  the  apartment  op- 
posite the  lofty  chimney-piece.  "  Gentlemen,"  he  be- 
gan, in  a  commanding  tone,  "  this  is  M.  Pascal  Ferail- 
leur,  the  honorable  man  who  was  falsely  accused  of 
cheating  at  cards  at  Madame  d'Argelès's  house.  You 
owe  him  a  hearing." 

Pascal  was  greatly  agitated.  The  strangeness  of  the 
situation,  the  certainty  of  speedy  and  startling  rehabili- 
tation, perhaps  the  joy  of  vengeance,  the  silence,  which 
was  so  profound  that  he  could  hear  his  own  panting 
breath,  and  the  many  eyes  riveted  upon  him,  all  com- 
bined to  unnerve  him.  But  only  for  a  moment.  He 
swiftly  conquered  his  weakness,  and  surveying  his  audi- 
ence with  flashing  eyes,  he  explained,  in  a  clear  and 
ringing  voice,  the  shameful  conspiracy  to  obtain  posses- 
sion of  the  count's  millions,  and  the  abominable  machi- 
nations by  which  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  and  himself 
had  been  victimized.  Then  when  he  had  finished  his 
explanations  he  added,  in  a  still  more  commanding 
voice,  "  Now  look  ;  you  can  read  the  culprits'  guilt  on 
their  faces.  One  is  the  scoundrel  known  to  you  as  the 
Viscount  de  Coralth,  but  Paul  Violaine  is  his  true 
name.  He  was  formerly  an  accomplice  of  the  notorious 
Mascarot;  he  is  a  cowardly  villain,  for  he  is  married, 
and  leaves  his  wife  and  children  to  die  of  starva- 
tion !  "    The  Viscount  de  Coralth  fairly  bellowed  with 


400    BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

rage.  But  Pascal  did  not  heed  him.  "  The  other  crim- 
inal is  the  Marquis  de  Valorsay,"  he  added,  in  the  same 
ringing  tone.  There  was,  moreover,  a  third  culprit 
who  would  have  inspired  mingled  pity  and  disgust  if 
any  one  had  noticed  him  shrinking  into  a  corner,  terri- 
fied and  muttering:  "  It  wasn't  my  fault,  my  wife  com- 
pelled me  to  do  it  !  "    This  was  General  de  Fondège. 

Pascal  did  not  mention  his  name.  But  it  was  not 
absolutely  necessary  he  should  do  so,  and  besides,  he 
remembered  Marguerite's  entreaty  respecting  the  son. 

However,  while  the  young  lawyer  was  speaking,  the 
marquis  had  summoned  all  his  energy  and  assurance 
to  his  aid.  Desperate  as  his  plight  might  be,  he  would 
not  surrender.  "  This  is  an  infamous  conspiracy,"  he 
exclaimed.  "  Baron,  you  shall  atone  for  this.  The 
man's  an  impostor  ! — he  lies  ! — all  that  he  says  is  false  !" 

"  Yes,  it  is  false  !  "  echoed  M.  de  Coralth. 

But  a  clamor  arose,  drowning  these  protestations,  and 
the  most  opprobrious  epithets  could  be  heard  on  every 
side. 

"  How  will  you  prove  your  assertion  ?  "  cried  M.  de 
Valorsay. 

"  Don't  try  that  dodge  on  us  !  "  shouted  Chupin. 
"  Vantrasson  and  mother  Léon  have  confessed  every- 
thing." 

"  Who  defrauded  us  all  with  Domingo?"  cried  sev- 
eral people;  and,  loud  above  all  the  others,  Kami-Bey 
bawled  out  :  "  To  say  nothing  of  the  fact  that  the  sale 
of  your  racing  stud  was  a  complete  swindle  !  " 

Meanwhile,  Pascal's  former  friends  and  associates, 
his  brother  advocates  and  the  magistrates  who  had  lis- 
tened to  his  first  efforts  at  the  bar,  crowded  round  him, 
pressing  his  hands,  embracing  him  almost  to  suffoca- 
tion, censuring  themselves  for  having  suspected  him. 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE    401 

the  very  soul  of  honor,  and  pleading  in  self-justification 
the  degenerate  age  in  which  we  live — an  age  in  which 
we  daily  see  those  whom  we  had  considered  immaculate 
suddenly  yield  to  temptation.  And  a  murmur  of  re- 
spectful admiration  rose  from  the  throng  when  the  ex- 
citement had  subsided  a  little,  and  the  guests  had  an 
opportunity  to  observe  Mademoiselle  Marguerite, 
whose  eyes  sparkled  more  brightly  than  ever  through 
her  happy  tears;  and  whose  beauty  acquired  an  almost 
sublime  expression  from  her  deep  emotion. 

The  wretched  Valorsay  felt  that  all  was  over — that 
he  was  irretrievably  lost.  Seized  by  a  blind  fury  like 
that  which  impels  a  hunted  animal  to  turn  and  face  the 
hounds  that  pursue  him,  and  bid  them  defiance,  he  con- 
fronted the  throng  with  his  face  distorted  with  passion, 
his  eyes  bloodshot,  and  foam  upon  his  lips;  he  was 
absolutely  frightful  in  his  cynicism,  hatred,  and  scorn. 
"  Ah  !  well,  yes  !  "  he  exclaimed — "  yes,  all  that  you 
have  just  heard  is  true.  I  was  sinking,  and  I  tried  to 
save  myself  as  best  I  could.  Beggars  cannot  be  choos- 
ers; I  staked  my  all  upon  a  single  die.  If  I  had  won, 
you  would  have  been  at  my  feet;  but  I  have  lost  and 
you  spurn  me.  Cowards  !  hypocrites  !  that  you  are, 
insult  me  if  you  like,  but  tell  me  how  many  among  you 
all  are  sufficiently  pure  and  upright  to  have  a  right  to 
despise  me  !  Are  there  a  hundred  among  you  ?  are 
there  even  fifty  ?  " 

A  tempest  of  hisses  momentarily  drowned  his  voice, 
but  as  soon  as  the  uproar  had  ceased,  he  resumed, 
sneeringly  :  "  Ah  !  the  truth  wounds  you,  my  dear 
friends.  Pray,  don't  pretend  to  be  so  distressingly  vir- 
tuous !  I  was  ruined — that  is  the  long  and  short  of  it. 
But  what  man  of  you  is  not  embarrassed  ?  Who  among 
you  finds  his  income  sufficient?     Which  one  of  you  is 


402     BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE 

not  encroaching  upon  his  capital  ?  And  when  you  have 
come  to  your  last  louis,  you  will  do  what  1  have  done, 
or  something  worse.  Do  not  deny  it,  for  not  one 
among  you  has  a  more  uncompromising  conscience, 
more  moral  firmness,  or  more  generous  aspirations  than 
I  once  possessed.  You  are  pursuing  what  I  pursued. 
You  desire  what  I  desired — a  life  of  luxury,  brief  if  it 
must  be,  but  happy — a  life  of  gayety,  wild  excitement, 
and  dissipation.  You,  too,  have  a  passion  for  pleasure 
and  gambling,  race-horses,  and  notorious  women,  a 
table  always  bountifully  spread,  glasses  ever  overflow- 
ing with  wine,  all  the  delights  of  luxury,  and  everything 
that  gratifies  your  vanity  !  But  an  abyss  of  shame 
awaits  you  at  the  end  of  it  all.  I  am  in  it  now.  I 
await  you  there,  for  there  you  will  surely,  necessarily, 
inevitably  come.  Ah,  ha  !  you  will  not  then  think  my 
downfall  so  very  strange.  Let  me  pass  !  make  way  ! 
if  you  please." 

He  advanced  with  his  head  haughtily  erect,  and 
would  actually  have  made  his  escape  if  a  frightened 
servant  had  not  at  that  moment  appeared  crying: 
"  Monsieur — Monsieur  le  Baron  !  a  commissary  of 
police  is  downstairs.  He  is  coming  up.  He  has  a 
warrant  !  " 

The  marquis's  frenzied  assurance  deserted  him.  He 
turned  even  paler  than  he  already  was  if  that  were 
possible,  and  reeled  like  an  ox  but  partially  stunned  by 
the  butcher's  hammer.  Suddenly  a  desperate  resolution 
could  be  read  in  his  eyes,  the  resolution  of  the  con- 
demned criminal,  who,  knowing  that  he  cannot  escape 
the  scaffold,  ascends  it  with  a  firm  step. 

He  hastily  approached  Baron  Trigault,  and  asked  in 
a  husky  voice  :  "  Will  you  allow  me  to  be  arrested  in 
your  house,  baron  ?  me — a  Valorsay  !  " 


BARON   TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE    403 

It  might  have  been  supposed  that  the  baron  had  ex- 
pected this  reproach,  for  without  a  word  he  led  the 
marquis  and  M.  de  Coralth  to  a  Httle  room  at  the  end 
of  the  hall,  pushed  them  inside,  and  closed  the  door 
again. 

It  was  time  he  did  so,  for  the  commissary  of  police 
was  already  upon  the  threshold.  "  Which  of  you  gen- 
tlemen is  the  Marquis  de  Valorsay  ?  "  he  asked. 
"  Which  of  you  is  Paul  Violaine,  alias  the  Viscount 
de ■' 

The  sharp  report  of  firearms  suddenly  interrupted 
him.  Every  one  at  once  rushed  to  the  little  room, 
where  the  wretched  men  had  been  conducted.  There 
extended,  face  upward,  on  the  floor,  lay  the  Marquis  de 
Valorsay,  with  his  brains  oozing  from  his  fractured 
skull,  and  his  right  hand  still  clutching  a  revolver.  He 
was  dead.  "  And  the  other  !  "  cried  the  throng  ;  "  the 
other  !  " 

The  open  window,  and  a  curtain  rudely  torn  from  its 
fastenings  and  secured  to  the  balustrade,  told  how  M. 
de  Coralth  had  made  his  escape.  It  was  not  till  later 
that  people  learned  what  precautions  the  baron  had 
taken.  On  the  table  in  that  room  he  had  laid  two 
revolvers,  and  two  packages  containing  ten  thousand 
francs  each.    The  viscount  had  not  hesitated. 


Pascal  Ferailleur  and  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  de 
Chalusse  were  married  at  the  church  of  Saint  Etienne 
du  Mont,  only  a  few  steps  from  the  Rue  d'Ulm.  Those 
who  knew  the  mystery  connected  with  the  bride's 
parentage  were  greatly  astonished  when  they  saw 
Baron  Trigault  act  as  a  witness  on  this  occasion,  in 
company  with  the  venerable  justice  of  the  peace.    But 


404    BARON    TRIGAULT'S   VENGEANCE 

such  was  the  fact,  nevertheless.  Treated  more  and 
more  outrageously  by  his  daughter  and  her  husband, 
separated  from  his  wife,  who  had  nearly  lost  her  rea- 
son, although  her  letters  were  saved,  the  baron  has 
nowadays  found  affection  and  a  home  with  Pascal  and 
his  wife.  He  plays  cards  but  seldom  now — only  an 
occasional  game  of  piquet  with  Madame  Ferailleur,  and 
he  amuses  himself  by  making  her  start  when  she  is  too 
long  in  discarding,  by  ejaculating,  in  a  stentorian  voice  : 
"  We  are  wasting  precious  time  !  "  Sometimes  they  go 
out  together,  to  the  great  astonishment  of  such  as 
chance  to  meet  the  puritanical  old  lady  leaning  on  the 
baron's  arm.  She  often  goes  to  visit  and  console  the 
widow  Gordon,  formerly  known  as  Lia  d'Argelès,  who 
now  keeps  an  establishment  near  Montrouge,  where 
she  provides  poor,  betrayed  and  forsaken  girls  with  a 
home  and  employment.  She  has  yet  to  receive  any  token 
of  remembrance  from  her  son.  As  for  her  husband,  she 
supposes  he  is  dead  or  incarcerated  in  some  prison. 

It  is  to  Madame  Gordon  that  the  Fondèges  are  often 
indebted  for  bread.  Obliged  to  disgorge  their  plunder, 
and  left  with  no  resources  save  the  fifty  francs  a  month 
allowed  them  by  their  son,  who  has  been  promoted  to 
the  rank  of  captain,  their  poverty  is  necessarily  ex- 
treme. Oh  !  those  Fondèges  !  M.  Fortunat  only  speaks 
of  them  with  horror.  But  he  is  loud  in  his  praises  of 
Madame  Marguerite,  who  repaid  him  the  forty  thou- 
sand francs  he  had  advanced  to  M.  de  Valorsay.  He 
speaks  in  the  highest  terms  of  Chupin  also;  but  in 
this,  he  is  scarcely  sincere,  for  Victor,  who  has  been 
set  up  in  business  by  Pascal,  told  him  very  plainly  that 
he  was  determined  not  to  put  his  hand  to  any  more 
dirty  work,  and  that  expression,  "  dirty  work,"  rankles 
in  M.  Fortunat's  heart. 


BARON    TRIGAULT'S    VENGEANCE    405 

Chupin's  resolution  did  not,  however,  prevent  him 
from  attending  the  trial  of  Vantrasson  and  Madame 
Léon — the  former  of  whom  was  sentenced  to  hard 
labor  for  life,  and  the  latter  to  ten  years'  imprison- 
ment. Nothing  is  known  concerning  M.  de  Coralth; 
but  his  wife  has  disappeared,  to  the  great  disappoint- 
ment of  M.  Mouchon.  As  a  dentist,  Dr.  Jodon  is  suc- 
cessful. As  for  M.  Wilkie,  you  can  learn  anything  you 
wish  to  know  concerning  him  in  the  newspapers,  for 
his  sayings,  doings,  and  movements,  are  constantly 
being  chronicled.  The  reporters  exhaust  all  the  re- 
sources of  their  vocabulary  in  describing  his  horses, 
carriages,  and  stables,  and  the  gorgeous  liveries  of  his 
servants.  His  changes  of  residence  are  always  men- 
tioned ;  his  brilliant  sayings  are  quoted.  He  is  a  social 
success;  he  is  admired,  fondled,  and  flattered.  He 
makes  a  great  stir  in  the  fashionable  world — in  fact,  he 
reigns  over  it  like  a  king.  After  all,  assurance  is  the 
winning  card  in  the  game  of  life  ! 


THE  END. 


CENTRAL  UNIVERSITY  AA    000  865  489    9 

University  of  California,  San  Diego 


DATE  DUE 


~JUl 


19 


iS^ 


^^i-ip.mn) 


CI  39 


UCSD  Libr. 


